Fearless
by Bad Company
Summary: Part Three of my series. At seventeen, Ava Telford has lived under the protection of the Tacoma killer her whole life. And in the fall of 2012, she's looking for more than safety. M for language, sex and violence. Happy/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Fearless **

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Kurt's amazing characters, just Ava, her mama, and any of the annoying kids featured forthwith. This story is in line with "Blood, White and Blue" and "Bring the Pain" and probably won't make any sense if you aren't familiar with those.

**AN**: This is less of an author's note and more of a warning, I guess. First, yes, I am well aware of who sings the song this fic is titled after. And while that embarrasses me, I just had to use it. Ava is 17 and I think it fits. Second, you really **shouldn't read further** if you have any moral issues with 17 yr. olds and much older men. I can't condone that sort of thing in real life, but this is very far from reality. This starts out light and gets a little darker as it goes, so be prepared for that too.

If that didn't turn you off, I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I'm going to take major liberties with the future of the club and make lots of assumptions, all in good humor. I'm posting this so soon because I'm not sure when I'll be able to update, so enjoy and please, please, please leave a review and tell me what you think, good or bad.

**October 2012**

**Charming, California**

"Yeah…no, I will…yeah…sure thing, babe. Love you too…what? No, I don't mind. Really. Tara…"

Chibs sniggered to himself as he listened to the half of the phone conversation he could hear. He didn't envy Jax at the moment.

The VP sighed loudly as he snapped his cell shut. He extended a hand and Chibs passed him his already lit cigarette without being asked. "What was it this time?"

Jax made a face. "Greek salad with extra peppers and a chocolate milkshake." He shuddered.

"Oh, Jackie-boy," Chibs laughed. "It's only gonna get worse."

"See, this is why it was so much easier with Wendy. You don't have to make eighty two stops a day when you ain't around."

"Really? You really wanna go there?"

Jax had the decency to look sheepish. "Yeah…maybe that's a bad idea."

"Yeah. Maybe."

The parking lot in front of Charming High was packed with parents waiting to pick up their children, newspapers spread over steering wheels, thin trails of smoke curling up from the ends of lit cigarettes hanging out of cracked windows. Every so often, a mother would shoot a disapproving look towards the two bikers parked side by side in a handicapped spot.

Chibs stared up at the low slung brick building, remembering the last time he'd been here. It had been with Maggie, years ago, when he'd come with her to sign Jax and Opie out of school after a fight. Now, nearly eighteen years later, he was waiting for his daughter to come out of the same school. It was a little bit spooky, but very right. Everything had circled back to where it had all begun.

"Is Maggie excited about next weekend?" Jax asked.

"She and your mum have been runnin' around for days…plannin' and shit. Drives me nuts." He took back the offered cigarette. "What about you? This is big shit for you, kid."

Jax shrugged, a complicated expression flickering across his face. "You know -,"

The dismissal bell broke the quiet and cut off whatever the VP was going to say. Chibs felt his eyes go to the double doors of the school as teenagers began pouring out in clusters, talking and laughing, gesturing wildly with their hands. He spotted Ava instantly, amazed like he always was these days of how grown up she looked. She was 5'6" now, one inch taller than her mother, all legs and slim, subtle curves. She was one of few who wasn't conversing with the other kids around her, didn't wave or smile at anyone. She strode quickly and gracefully toward their bikes, not once glancing at the teenage chaos around her.

"Hey, sweetheart," he called when she was close enough.

A smile finally split her slim face, not a fake one, but a genuine smile. It had taken her awhile, but she was happy in Charming now. Happy with him even.

"Hi, Daddy," she brushed a kiss to his cheek as she accepted the spare helmet he handed her. She turned to Jax as she buckled the chin strap. "S'up, Jax?"

"Hey, kid," he winked at her.

"I didn't expect you guys. I thought Mom was picking me up."

Chibs rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. "She was busy."

"Party planning?" Ava asked with a sigh.

"Aye."

"Whatever." She slid onto the tiny bitch seat behind her father, linking her arms around his waist. "I'm just glad to get outta this hell hole. Did Juice finish with my truck? It'd be nice to get it back."

"He got tied up with other shit," Chibs could envision her frown. "Maybe this afternoon."

She grumbled something he couldn't make out over the roar of his engine starting. Jax fired up his own Dyna beside them and they earned scowls from the soccer moms. Chibs knew the sight of his little high schooler in SOA company was disturbing to the yuppies and he grinned. It was always nice to know you could still scare the locals.

**-O-**

The perks of being the pride and joy of Charming High School's football team were many; girls, friends, recognition, the love of every teacher and administrator…well, all but one. Carter Michaels had yet to win over his fifth period literature teacher. Which meant he had a D. Which meant he might not graduate. And despite all the perks, there was one huge drawback as of late, and her name was Ava Telford.

Mrs. Hagan had hand picked his tutor and he'd been more than stunned with the long-legged, sharp tongued girl who always sat in the back of the classroom. She was beautiful in a way that totally contradicted the chicks who fell all over him after a game; self-assured but quiet to the point he'd thought she was mute. Always in jeans and loose t-shirts, sporting sneakers or boots. She was completely immune to all of his best lines and smiles, and worst of all, she was a part of that mysterious, threatening damn biker gang in town.

The Sons of Anarchy scared the living shit out of Carter. So when Ava had told him to swing by Teller-Morrow for their afternoon's tutoring session, his stomach had twisted up in all kinds of knots. On campus, he was the man. Standing on the sidewalk in front of this garage, he was a pretty boy jock who stood a good chance of being told to "squeal like a pig" by these biker boys. He fiddled with the straps of his backpack, kicked at the loose scraps of concrete on the sidewalk, and finally sighed as he started for the gate. Why in the hell did the smartest, prettiest little thing in all of Charming have to be a SAMCRO princess?

**-O-**

"Please, Juice?" Ava clasped her hands behind her back and cocked one foot, trying to look as squirmy and girly as possible. She batted her lashes when he shook his head. "Pretty please?"

He sighed, but couldn't hide his smile. "No, Ava."

As he started to brush past her towards the door, she stopped him with a hard tug on the front of his cut. "You said you would if no one was around," she kept trying. She moved her free hand to his chest, dancing her fingertips across the worn cotton of his t-shirt.

Juice had dark stubble peppered across his chin today and it almost made him look ferocious…almost. He stared down at her with hard eyes, lip curling. This was his warning face, the same one he'd been giving her for six months. So far, it hadn't worked once.

"Juice…"

"This can't keep happening," he said. He rubbed his hands back across his short mohawk, face scrunching up. He was four years older than when she'd met him, hell, so was she, but he was still the same goofball she'd drooled over in the hospital. "Someone's gonna catch us and then your dad…" he shuddered ",is gonna cut my balls off with a plastic spoon."

That was very true. But Ava was seventeen and her hormones were raging out of control. The club was her family, her friend, her whole world. The asshole boys at school didn't notice her, and even if they did, she wouldn't be interested. The Old Ladies had explained the importance of not hitching her wagon to some milk toast pussy. And the true object of her affection was hell bent on treating her like a kid. So she was left with stealing kisses from Juice when no one was looking.

The first time had been an accident. He'd been a little tipsy and was helping her down off the tailgate of her truck. He'd slipped and they'd tumbled to the asphalt, him on top, and it had just sort of happened. The next few times had been hesitant. And now it was a game; he'd try to push her off but she'd always prevail. He was teaching her how to use her lips, how to angle her head. She loved the rush of blood in her ears each time, the little tickle at the pit of her belly. It thrilled her that when he pulled away, Juice was no longer smiling or rolling his eyes. He would breathe heavily, lids low. A few times, he'd gotten a little carried away and Ava hadn't stopped him, hoping they'd end up in bed. She was tired of being a virgin, tired of hoping and wondering and fantasizing. And the only other Son with a great tan and minimal hair was looking like her best bet.

"Please," Ava pressed. When he looked away, she reached up to touch his face, stroked her thumb down his chin. His eyes came back to hers and were wide with guilt.

"You are _seventeen_, Ava. You know how creepy that makes me feel?"

She frowned. "Oh, so I guess all the sweetbutts around here are legal?"

"No…" he sighed yet again. "It's just…shit, I don't know they're underage. And they aren't _Chibs' daughter_."

Ava opened her mouth to protest and he scanned the room quickly.

"Shit," he muttered, then kissed her. It was one of their better ones; his haste making him press their lips together hard. Ava stretched, moved into him and with him, followed the hot stroke of his mouth. When she pressed her chest into his, she felt his tongue against her closed lips. Her brows shot up. This was a first, but instinct told her to open her mouth, and when she did, he licked in between her teeth.

Heat swept through her in a hard wave. This was different; his tongue, the sensation swirling through her body. She'd helped herself out enough times to recognize the dampness between her legs.

One of his hands found the small of her back and tucked her in close. Ava skimmed her palm over his head, loved the bristle of his mohawk and the smoothness of his tattooed scalp. She was so, so ready to be someone's girl, and it didn't matter a bit that Juice was closer to forty than seventeen these days.

The clubhouse door opened with a squeal.

Juice shoved her away hard, face clearly panicked. Ava staggered, breathless and pissed. So close this time, so close…

She turned and saw the Prospect, Tux, standing in the halo of light pouring through the open door. His boyish face was blank with shock, hands held up as if in surrender. "Oh…Jesus…I didn't mean…shit, I -,"

"Get the fuck out, Prospect!" Juice snapped. He strode towards the door, Tux backing away quickly, and Ava recognized his expression as more freaked than pissed. The Prospect didn't know that though. "You say _anything _about this…"

"I'll shoot myself, don't worry," Tux stammered before he bolted.

"Ooh, you're so scary, biker man," Ava chuckled.

Juice was scowling when he turned around. "This isn't a joke, Ava. I could lose my patches if this got out."

"Your patches?" She arched a single brow, the move that never failed to earn a smile from one of the guys. "That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?"

He sighed tiredly and swept his hands across his head again. His face softened. He felt so guilty about all this and Ava felt that familiar stab of doubt. What was she doing? She didn't like Juice that way. She sighed too. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not," he said, but then smiled reluctantly. He straightened out his cut and t-shirt and came back to her. "You're a very bad girl, Ava Telford," Juice waved an admonishing finger at her.

She slapped his hand away with a grin. "Are you looking at my speakers or what?"

"Yeah," he extended his hand for her keys and just like that, their relationship was completely platonic again.

She filled him in on the crackling sound coming from the passenger speaker of her truck. She was praying it was so shot he'd have to wire in a whole new system. When she'd turned sixteen, she'd been given her mom's truck, Maggie now driving a brand freaking new black CTS. Heaven forbid she and her cousin not be decked out in a Caddy. Ava had wanted a car, something low slung and sporty, not a refurbished old truck her mother had used as a battering ram.

"…so it seriously won't hurt my feelings if you could slide some sub woofers in there," Ava hinted as they stepped outside.

Juice chuckled.

"What?"

"Your boyfriend's here."

Ava spotted Carter Michaels standing awkwardly in the parking lot, shooting wild looks at the bikes and bikers. He caught her eye and offered a wave.

"Oh fuck," she muttered.

**-O-**

Even when he had been much younger and full of swag, animal instinct had told Happy to keep away from little Maggie. She'd shown up all dejected and desperate on her cousin's doorstep, with those deep-set hazel eyes that could swallow a man. And under all that wavy blond hair, beneath her nothing-special jeans and t-shirt, there was something ethereal about the way she moved. That self-possessed assurance that had nothing to do with privilege and everything to do with right. The subtle shit of her hips, the way the worn cotton of an old band shirt pulled tight across her chest. No eighteen-year-old had ever been so sure of her power, or her place with the club. Hap had seen the signs – in the curve of her smile, the strength in her little fingers as she tugged on her boots with snappy gestures – she was going to break some poor bastard's heart and leave him in a drunken crumble on the clubhouse floor.

But trying to explain that to his brothers had been pointless. His intuition wasn't human and they didn't understand his "sense" that this one was special. She didn't need skimpy outfits or pathetic groping. She could have landed any of them with a wink, but was promiscuous anyway, adding to the appeal. Maggie hadn't been the kind of girl you fucked one time and just walked away from. So he'd let the others get pulled in and he'd stayed at arm's length.

Truthfully, even after all these years, he loved the hell out of Maggie. The only woman half as smart as Gemma Morrow. She could get a laugh out of all the guys, man the battle stations in a crisis, crush the club hangarounds in the palm of her hand, and still keep her man coming back to bed every night. It was a rare combination of qualities in a woman. And he'd been in charge of her long enough to not just know her, but appreciate her for what she was. Unlike Tig, unlike Chibs, he'd resisted the animal urge and now he could safely call her family without being subject to her wiles.

The sucker punch, however, had been the kid.

Hap stood braced against the side of the garage, making slow progress on a smoke, and watched Ava at the picnic table with _that dumbass boy _as they'd all taken to calling him. She tucked her hair behind her ears as she leaned over her sketch pad, the dark strands reflecting light like polished mahogany. Her little pointed nose twitched every so often as she frowned, judging whatever she'd drawn too harshly. The girl could turn pencil scratches into pictures like nothing he'd ever seen. If she wasn't all set down the path towards a better life, he would have shown her sketches to Freddy and hooked her up with a tattoo gig. Her fingertips were no doubt smudged with graphite – her long, pale fingers smoothing harsh lines on the paper.

Beside her, the boy pretended to be doing the English homework she'd outlined for him and kept stealing nervous glances her way. Licking his lips, watching the rise and fall of her little C-cup tits under her sweater.

Happy wanted to rip his goddamn pretty boy head off and watch blood come shooting out of the neck wound like a geyser. Then maybe run over the body with the tow truck a few times. Hap growled as he smoked, lip curling around his cigarette.

Somewhere along the line, Ava had quit being Chibs' kid or Maggie's kid, or Jax's second cousin removed or whatever the hell. He'd known her since she was a week old, had seen her in diapers, tottering along with a sippy cup in one hand. Five and playing dress up with his boots, a giant baseball cap falling over her eyes. She'd suffered through those hard years as a hormonal kid with a crush on him he felt dirty about. And now she sat, leggy and beautiful, the representation of all that was ripe, innocent and wonderful about the world. All grown up. A part of this crazy MC life and somehow untainted. And Hap wanted to rip the heart out of every motherfucker who so much as looked at her. This stupid kid included.

All the dark, carnal parts of him; the carefully crafted killer, the hitman, the Reaper personified…all of those characters hadn't counted on little Ava Telford. And he didn't really know how to handle that. He had loved the girl without question. If he loved the woman, where did that leave him?

"Hey, Hap, you check the carb on this?" Opie's voice snapped him back to the task at hand.

"Yeah," he answered, dropping his smoke to the pavement. He gave Ava one last look, hatred for the boy building just at the sight of him, but returned to work.

**-O-**

"Ummm…."

Ava closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She opened them slowly and stared for a moment at the tree she was sketching. It was an oak, something big and moss draped like she'd seen in coffee table books about the South. She'd put a bird on one of the limbs; a little robin with a red breast. She had been working on the shading around his tiny talons when Carter had started with the babbling again. Always with the babbling this one.

"I don't get this question," he said.

She glanced over and saw that he was turned sideways on the picnic table's bench, scraping the lead end of his pencil through his light hair, giving her a practiced expression of confusion. She supposed he was cute by teenage girl standards; blue eyes, blond hair like Jax, but cropped short and buzzed on the sides. He had smooth, almost pretty features, manicured nails. He was nothing like the smoking, drinking, rough talking mechanics and bikers she'd grown up with, and was therefore not even a blip on her radar. He did nothing for her.

"What don't you get?" she asked with false patience.

"This thing about _The Heart of Darkness_…something about racism."

Ava pulled his paper towards her by the corner. "This one? 'Explain the ways racism is used throughout the text'."

"It's 'cause there's black people in it, right?"

She bit down on her lip to keep from saying something snarky. She would rather have helped a goat with its homework.

The creak of wood saved her from answering, and from the scared shitless look on Carter's face, she knew who it was without turning.

"Hey, darlin'. How's my favorite girl?"

Ava grinned as she faced off from her dad and Jax. Chibs was grinning, his scars flashing, and she couldn't resist frightening the little football jock just a little more. "Hey, Daddy," she leaned across the table and kissed him lightly on one scarred cheek, smiling wickedly as she pulled back. "Hey, cuz," she said to Jax. "What's up?"

"We're just taking a smoke break," Jax said as he lit up a fresh cigarette. "Thought we'd check on things."

"Aye." Chibs shot a look toward Carter and all the friendliness left his face. "Makin' sure everybody keeps their grimy little fuckin' hands to themselves…"

Carter shrank backward on the bench.

"…not that anyone needs to be told or anythin'," Chibs winked at Ava and she chuckled.

The two of them had gone through a rough patch; right when Ava's teenage rebellion had started kicking in and she'd felt like all the troubles in her life were the fault of her absent father. But moving to Charming had thrust them together, and even given Chibs a chance to shine. Ava still got pissed at him on occasion, but Maggie was happy and Chibs was happy. They had a nice little home in "Sam Crow Corner", not too far from Jax and Tara's place. Unlike Seattle, The Sons of Anarchy ruled this tiny town, and the club was flowing even stronger in her blood these days, living in the seat of the mother charter.

And maybe best of all, her favorite person in the world had joined Redwood. During the tumultuous period when Jax and her father had been in Ireland, searching for Abel, her rock had cut the Nomad patches off his cut and become a part of SAMCRO. Her Grandmother had caved and moved to Cali to be with her only remaining family and now everyone Ava loved resided in one place. Everything was right with the world.

Jax pulled her sketch pad towards him and turned it around. He whistled. "Damn. You're sending her to art school, right?" he asked Chibs.

"You gonna pay for it, Jackie-boy?"

The VP shrugged. "Charity run. 'Send my kid to a gay, pansy-ass art school'," he held up a hand, squinting as if he were reading the words off a banner.

"Wow, Jax, that's exactly the school I applied to."

"Smart ass," he grumbled, but smiled. "Really though, Ava, you're good. You could get a scholarship for that shit."

She blushed, and not in a happy way. "Yeah…that's sweet, but…no. I'm not good enough for that."

"I think you are," Carter spoke up, and earned nasty scowls from both Sons.

"Do your homework," Chibs ordered.

Ava stifled a laugh. At school, she soldiered through each day, finding small comforts in her handful of casual friends and English class. Art class was a shining little bright spot in her otherwise shitty day, but it was only a forty five minute respite from the hectic, get-ignored-or-get-hassled routine that was high school. Most everyone left her alone, too terrified of her family to risk an ass beating. But there were a few brave shitheads who liked to run their mouths about what a slut/idiot/whore she must be. And funny, those same jerk-offs also accused her of being a nerd. Make up your damn minds. The whispers and the looks had, over time, managed to crack the seal on her self esteem. And though she pretended it didn't, the mistreatment hurt.

But at the end of the day, when she pulled her truck into T-M, all that melted away. When she was with her family, surrounded by people she loved and understood, she could breathe. Any chance her dad or cousin had to rib Carter Michaels was a welcome one.

"Ava!" Juice came jogging over – she'd always thought he ran like a little kid – hand out and grinning. Ava felt almost guilty again, afraid her father might somehow know what had transpired in the clubhouse earlier. "Hey, let me borrow your iPod."

"What for?" she asked, risking a glance to confirm that Carter now looked seconds away from shitting in his pants now that _three _Sons were surrounding them.

It was hard to imagine Juice looking scary to anyone with that big goofy grin on his face. "I tweaked some shit with your speakers. I need to test it and you've got more rap than I do."

"That's right, forgot you were a closet gangsta," Jax chuckled as she dug around in her bag.

Ava rolled her eyes as she flipped her iPod up to Juice. "If it were up to Mom, I'd only listen to AC/DC and Whitesnake."

"Speakin' of your mum – who has great taste in music by the way," Chibs said, rising ", I gotta get goin'."

Jax smiled. "Little dessert before dinner?"

"Somethin' like that -,"

"Stop!" Ava held up a hand and all the guys laughed. "I don't wanna hear these things. _Ever_!"

"You done with her truck?" Chibs asked Juice.

"Nah, probably tomorrow."

Ava groaned.

Jax stood too and headed toward the clubhouse. "I'll give her a ride home. Just come get me when you're done with the meathead," Jax called over his shoulder.

Ava traded hugs with her dad before he left and then Juice wandered back to her truck in the lot, leaving her once again alone with Carter. She sighed loudly, her breath ruffling the pages of her sketch pad.

"You okay?" he asked after a moment.

She smoothed her paper again, frowning. "Fine," she said guardedly, tone clipped. She could feel his eyes on her and waited for his next comment.

"So, um…I didn't know you were into rap."

"What, I don't look the type?"

"Well…no, not really."

She snorted. "You ever get tired of classifying people?"

He frowned and she looked away.

"What do you mean?"

Ava sighed. "You – people like you – you always try to stuff others in categories. Jock. Nerd. Slut. _Biker whore _for instance."

"Whoa, I never said that about you."

"Whatever, dude."

"Really! Ava, I swear. What Jenny and Steph said, I wasn't a part of that." She gave him a withering look. "I mean sure, your family freaks me out and all, but I never said you were a whore. I think you're smart, and funny and really pretty -," he stopped abruptly when she lifted her brows. "And now I feel really stupid for saying that while you're looking at me that way."

"Carter -,"

"Look, I've been wanting to ask you this for days so I'm just gonna say it. Will you…shit…will you come with me to the bonfire thing tomorrow night?"

Ava was stunned. "What?"

"The bonfire -,"

"No, I heard you. But, _what_? You're asking me to go somewhere with you? As in a date?"

"Um, well…just as friends, if you want."

_Bullshit. _Guys didn't ask girls to go with them places as friends. She hadn't seen this coming, not at all. None of the guys at CHS liked her, least of all one of the football stars. The thought soured her stomach, thinking about holding hands and leaning in close to Carter Michales…it physically made her ill.

Her head swiveled automatically, eyes scanning the lot and open garage bays. When she found Happy working with Opie on a bike, her chest tightened. Stealing kisses from Juice was one thing…but a date? With some doe-eyed little high school punk? A lot had changed over the past four years, but not everything.

"Go home, Carter," she said, jumping up from the table. She left her pad and pencil behind, and headed for the clubhouse without looking back.

"Ava, wait!"

"Home, Carter. We're done today."

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Wow, I had no idea I'd get that kind of response with this story. Thank you guys SO much. I updated a little early since you all reviewed, but don't worry, there's still lots of story to come.**

Ava's rush of jumbled anger and embarrassment over Carter's invite stalled momentarily as she entered the clubhouse. Tux was on his hands and knees, bucket and sponge, mopping the worn wood floor the old fashioned way. Never, at any point in the past four years, had anyone done the deed by hand. It was hell to be a Prospect.

Tux's real name was Aaron, Aaron Gambrel. He was a hell of a mechanic, but a bit overeager and immature as far as personalities went. His first day on the job he'd shown up in one of those hideous, retro tuxedo t-shirts, and had instantly become "Tux". Now that he was prospecting, his given name had been completely abandoned, only rearing its head on official documentation.

"Who hid the mop, Prospect?" Ava asked as she stepped carefully over the clean patch of floor on her way toward the bar.

He sighed, and Tig and Bobby's chuckles were answer enough.

"Hey, kid," Tig called. "It's Friday, pay up."

Ava frowned. "Where's Jax? He said he'd take me home and I'm ready."

"Nah. Cake first, Jax second."

Bobby looked between them, confused and maybe a little disgusted. "Do I even want to know what _cake _means?"

Ava really wasn't in the mood to put up with Tig and his on-again, off-again good temper. She'd never quite been able to win over the Sgt at Arms and he was the last person she wanted to entertain in her current mood. "Tig -,"

"Cake. Now. Then Jax."

"Fine," she sighed, trudging over to the school bag she'd stuffed under one of the couches. She dug around and came out with the little greasy bundle wrapped in paper napkins. "Here," she dropped it on the bar. "Now where's Jax."

Tig ignored her as he unwrapped the smashed block of chocolate cake she'd snitched from her lunch tray that afternoon. They had a standing deal going on about certain cafeteria desserts.

"So, cake as in actual cake?" Bobby asked. He wrinkled his nose. "What the hell?"

"Fridays are chocolate fudge cake days at school," Tig said with a pleased smile.

"_Cafeteria _cake?" Bobby was appalled. "Goddamn…do you have any idea what they put in that shit?"

"Fudge. And sprinkles."

"And you would eat that when you could have _my _all natural, organic cake? I feel like I don't even know you, man."

"Now that you've had your fix, where's my cousin?" Ava asked.

"Right here? What's going on?" Jax emerged from the back hall, slipping his cell back into his jeans pocket. He frowned the instant his eyes landed on her face, making her wonder just how flustered she looked. "You a'ight?"

"Can I get that ride home now?" She heard the whine in her voice and couldn't seem to help it. She was staring to get desperate.

His eyes flicked to the door, nostrils flaring slightly. Ava had a feeling Jax was keen to her motives, but just shook his head. "Yeah. Gimme a sec and we'll go."

"You okay, sweetheart?" Bobby asked with a frown.

She nodded and offered a smile. She would be, just as soon as she got the hell away from Carter.

**-O-**

When it came to the age-old fight or flight reflex, Hap always went for the fight option. He had seen Ava leap up from the table, her sudden flurry of activity catching his eye as he was rooting through a tool chest. And predator that he was, he'd seen the rigid set of her shoulders, the way her little hands had curled into fists at her sides…that coupled with the stupid boy's reaction…there was no way he could misinterpret what had happened. Pretty Boy had said something that offended the shit out of her, to the point that the ballsy little thing had gone into full retreat mode.

Anger flared hot and hard, shooting down his arms, cracking his knuckles into fists. _Nobody _fucked with Ava and got away with it.

Happy was moving before he was aware of it, eating up the distance to the clubhouse in long strides.

**-O-**

Carter stared down at his blank homework paper, dumbfounded. This was the first time in memory that a girl had ever rejected him. Never mind just told him no, but had actually run away from him. He replayed the question in his mind, trying to find where he'd gone wrong.

"Hey."

His head snapped up at the call, and then he froze when he saw the guy coming towards him. Carter had thought Ava's dad and his scarred up face had been scary, even the pretty one with the blond hair had been a little intimidating. This guy made the other two look like house pets.

Shaved head, deep tan, a face that was rigid and mean, black eyes that flashed with rage as he stormed up to the picnic table – he was terrifying, all rolling muscles and lethal force under his mechanic get-up.

"What the fuck did you say to her?" His voice was half truck engine, half Rottweiler. Carter wanted to bolt and was somehow frozen.

"I-I-I didn't say -,"

The guy lunged over the table, snatched a handful of his Polo shirt into a vise grip and hauled Carter up, slamming his chest into the wood table edge, forcing the breath out of him in a petrified rush.

"Dude! Let go…please!"

"What did you say to her, shithead?" the guy rasped, giving him a shake.

Carter struggled, pawing at his tan hand, legs kicking uselessly under the table. "Stop!"

"What -,"

"Nothing! I swear!" Carter was desperate, breath shortening by the second. And his mouth went dry as he stared into this man's eyes. Suddenly, he knew he was about to die.

**-O-**

Ava was thankful that Jax didn't ask any questions. He held the door open for her and she stepped back into the afternoon sun, intending to ignore the hell out of Carter on the way to her cousin's bike. She wasn't at all prepared for the sight that greeted her.

Happy had the little football jerk by the collar, shaking him like a doll, quite literally dragging him across the picnic table. Ava knew what Hap was, knew that he was a killer, had seen him in action once when he was defending her mother, but the look on his face now rattled her; an unchecked fury that was contradictory to the cool calm he always displayed.

"Jesus Christ!" Jax hustled to the table, slamming both palms down to catch Hap's attention. It didn't work. "Hap. Hap!"

Ava saw Carter's open-mouthed, bug-eyed terror and almost felt bad for him. And kind of wanted to let nature take its course too. Either way, she couldn't very well let Happy kill him. She slipped in around Jax and took a light hold on Hap's wrist, drawing his dark eyes in an instant, hard flash.

"It's fine, Hap," she said levelly. "Let him go, please."

"Jesus fuckin' -," Jax tried to shove her out of the mix, but froze when Happy shoved Carter away. The football stud landed hard on his ass, gasping at the impact.

Ava held Happy's gaze a moment, smiling briefly in spite of the situation. She didn't have to ask, or wonder what had triggered the killer's response. Seventeen years of looking after a person led to over protectiveness. "I'm fine," she added quietly.

Happy clenched his jaw, a muscle in his cheek twitching, but nodded once. "I don't like that asswipe," he said.

"Neither do I, but shit, dude," Jax grumbled. "Don't exactly look good for the club to start killin' kids in broad daylight."

The two bikers walked off, Jax still reprimanding. Ava spared Carter a pitying look – he had almost been strangled after all. His eyes were wide, pretty features pale from shock.

"Remember what I said about going home? Now would be a good time to do that."

**-O-**

She'd ridden double behind most of the guys, and Jax was one of her favorites. He rode faster than her dad, took the turns a little tighter, laying them down low over the rushing pavement. And Ava could relax with her cousin, not worry about him misinterpreting the tightness of her arms around his waist, or the way her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatshirt. She loved the sting of the wind on her cheeks and the way her clothes tried to pull away from her body. It was a pure sense of freedom; one she didn't want for herself, but didn't mind borrowing when her dad or cousin or surrogate uncle obliged.

All too soon, Jax was dipping in at her driveway and rolling his Dyna to a stop. Maggie was in the front yard, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, watering the roses she'd planted that summer. She looked up and waved at Jax, earning a two-fingered salute in return.

"You all set?" he asked as Ava climbed off the little bump seat.

She unbuckled her helmet and offered him a smile. "Yeah. Thanks for the ride, cuz."

"Yup. Hey," his smile slipped. "Whatever that dipshit kid said today, don't worry about it, a'ight? He ain't worth it."

"Already forgotten."

They traded pecks on the cheek and then Jax revved his bike to life again, walking backward down the short drive to the street.

"Hey, baby," Maggie called once the roar of his engine had faded. "Your day okay?"

Ava left her bag on the driveway and joined her mom, hands in the pockets of her hoodie. "Flowers look good," she ignored the question.

"They're not in bloom."

"Well, the green part's kinda nice."

Maggie pulled her thumb off the end of the hose, the blast of water slowing to a trickle. Her sideways look was all too knowing. "You had tutoring duty today, huh?"

Ava grimaced. "Unfortunately."

"He actually learning anything?"

"No. He's fucking retarded…"

"Language."

"…freaking retarded. He's so stupid, Mom. I just….ugh. Damn football player."

Maggie grinned. "Hey, you're preaching to the choir there, honey. Any of the guys try to kill him today?"

Ava grimaced. "Well…um, Happy…"

"Shit! Are you kidding me?"

"He didn't actually kill him. Jax and I broke it up."

Her mother frowned anyway and shook her head. "I don't like where his head's at lately."

The comment was unexpected and Ava found herself staring at Maggie, waiting for an elaboration. She too had wondered if Hap wasn't a little on edge these days, but all of the guys had a little bout of man PMS every once in awhile; she'd chalked it up to club stuff. "What-,"

"C'mon," her mom interrupted in what was most likely a deliberate move. Maggie cut off the hose and coiled it back up at the base of the house. "I bet dinner's about ready to come out of the oven."

Chibs was in the kitchen, staring through the window in the oven door. "Is it ready yet?"

"Jesus," Maggie swatted him away. "You can't wait a sec?"

Ava rolled her eyes. If she admitted it, her parents were actually kind of cute together. They bickered and fussed like kids, and every so often, Chibs felt the need to lay down the macho law, to which Maggie complied, but rolled her eyes behind his back. "Men," she would always say ", need to feel like they're in control…so we let them pretend." Watching them together always heightened her anger about the things whispered behind her back in the hallways. Yeah they rode bikes and dressed differently, ran guns and muscled other gangs out of town, but at the end of the day, the Sons were family men, with wives, girlfriends, children and sleepy evenings of lasagna and TV.

**-O-**

Later that night, up in her room, the Carter thing was still bothering Ava. That sudden, unexpected way he'd asked her out, coupled with Happy's reaction had scrambled her brain. She was sitting at her desk, staring blankly at the charcoal portrait she was supposed to be completing for her year end portfolio. In a world where the Mayans and Nords took turns being the villain of the week, a high school kid hardly seemed a threat, but remembering Hap's fists knotted up in the kid's shirt, the feral glint in his eyes…she was thoroughly confused. Ava had been head over heels for Happy for as long as she could remember, but he had always drawn clear lines between them. His anger today didn't track.

There was a soft knock on her door and Maggie entered before she could say "come in".

"Miraculously, your old man didn't eat all of the cake I bought. You want some?"

Ava grinned half-heartedly as a plate full of chocolate torte was placed at her elbow, fork, napkin and all. "Thanks, Mom." She took a test bite, loved the rich taste, but wasn't hungry enough. She set the fork down and picked up her charcoal stick, once again finding herself poised above the paper with no inspiration.

"What is it?" Maggie asked.

Ava heard the rustle of fabric and knew she'd perched cross-legged on the end of the bed. There was no way she could feed her mother some bullshit story about what was bothering her.

"You know that stupid bonfire the booster club hosts every year? The one they have up in the Streams?"

"Yeah."

"I…" Ava sighed. "Carter asked me to go with him."

Maggie was silent a moment. "Wow," she said at last. "Can't believe he had the balls to do that."

Abandoning her sketch, Ava turned around and straddled her chair, facing off from her mom. She frowned. "I know. I mean, as much shit as his friends give me, I figured he hated me too." Her frown deepened. "Maybe it's a dare, you know, _She's All That _or something."

Maggie sighed. "I don't think it's a dare, baby."

"Then what?"

"I think the little idiot likes you."

Ava recoiled. "What? Why the hell would he like me?"

She grinned. "Hmm, let's see; smart, funny, gorgeous girl with legs that won't quit, I wonder."

"Mom."

"I'm being serious, Ava. And as much as I agree with you about pretty boy jocks, I actually think you should consider going with him."

Ava was too horrified to respond.

"Ava," Maggie said gently. "When I was your age…hell, this sounds like horrible advice, but I had a boyfriend. Baby, you don't flirt, you barely keep from decking the boys you go to school with. I think, even if you don't want to date him, going out with this Carter kid might be good for you. Help you move on."

"_Move on_?"

Maggie's smile was almost sad. "You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I -,"

"Happy."

It never failed. Whenever anyone else said his name, blush-worthy images of shirtless Hap, tattoos rolling over dusky skin and lithe muscles popped into her head. The older she became, the sharper her physical response. When she was a kid it had been an enigma, but now she understood what lust and desire were, now knew exactly what she wanted to happen between them. And it infuriated her that her mother still seemed able to get inside her head.

"None of this has anything to do with Hap."

"Yeah." Maggie stood with a sigh.

"I'm serious, Mom."

"And so am I. Don't let this crush control your social life."

_Crush? _To hear her sentiments degraded to some horny, school girl crush was embarrassing and devastating as always. She folded her arms over the top of the chair, glaring at Maggie's back as she walked out.

**-O-**

"Man," Happy groaned inwardly at the sound of Juice's voice. He wasn't in the mood. "What was up with Ava's little boyfriend today? Did you really try to rough him up?"

Hap glanced away from the bottom of his glass for the first time, shooting a dark look at Juice. "He's not her boyfriend."

The tech geek's eyes widened. "Okay…"

"I don't know why Chibs lets the little fucker come around."

Juice chuckled. "Hey, Ava can take care of herself. Trust me. That poor kid never knew what hit him."

Hap didn't miss the knowing twist to the other man's smile, the laughter behind his eyes. He may as well have had GUILTY written across his forehead.

Thoroughly disgusted with himself and the situation, Happy shoved away from the bar and went in search of a Crow Eater willing to warm his bed for the next few hours. A blond one. Always blond for him – less chance of getting confused that way.

**-O-**

It was after midnight and Ava stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom, wide awake. She was pissed that she'd run off and left her iPod with Juice. More pissed that she was still rattled. When lying quietly in the dark became unbearable, she rolled over and pulled her cell off the nightstand. The first number she dialed went straight to voice mail, the automated female voice prompting her to leave a message after the tone.

Tig answered on the third ring to the clubhouse. "Yeah?" The din of the jukebox and male laughter was loud in the background.

"Is Happy there?"

"What?" he obviously didn't recognize her voice. "Nah. He's with a bitch right now. You wanna reserve the next round?" he cackled.

Ava hung up and then cradled the phone against her chest. As her stomach lurched, she wondered if her mother was right.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Remember the jock Jax and Opie beat up in my first Chibs' story – Keith Byers? He has returned. And don't get too used to these fast updates. I know the beginning of this is slow and I want to keep you guys interested. Thank you, all my reviewers!**

Saturdays were usually lazy, but this one felt pressured. Ever since Ava had made that God-forsaken call to Carter that morning, she hadn't been able to focus on anything else. The perky jump to his voice still rang in her ears, making her slightly nauseas. And then she kept replaying Tig's comment. _He's with a bitch right now…_

The sky was unusually overcast, gun metal gray and heavy with clouds that threatened rain. She spent the better part of the afternoon at a café table outside Nikki's stirring her iced coffee and not drinking it, making idle chit chat with her friend Caroline. Caroline had been shocked and appalled at her "date" with Carter, demanding to be the first to hear all the nasty details since she wouldn't be caught dead within fifty yards of the bonfire.

Now Ava stood in front of the full length mirror inside her closet, scowling at her reflection. She was in one of her mother's hand-me-down Def Leppard concert tees, black leggings and red All Stars. Her leather riding jacket – a Christmas gift from Gemma – with all its zippers and snaps branded her as a biker chick, but that was the point, wasn't it? Disgusted with her evening plans, she zipped her cell phone, ID and some cash into an interior jacket pocket and then headed down the hall.

Maggie and Chibs were on the couch, all snuggled up watching a Pay-Per-View boxing match, beers in hand. Maggie glanced up and grinned. "Aw, you look cute, babe."

Chibs' expression was more on the sour side. He snorted and grumbled something that was unintelligible given his accent and mood.

Ava lingered in the foyer; almost wishing her dad would pitch a fit and tell her she couldn't go. When the doorbell rang, she cursed.

"Is that 'im?" Chibs called from the living room.

Ava checked the peep hole. Carter stood on the front step in jeans and his CHS jersey, the blue and white school colors crisp and clean. "Yeah," she groaned. "It's him."

"Chibs…" she heard Maggie warn, then her dad was at her side.

"You want me to break his nose?" Chibs asked quietly, only half joking. "The hand ain't great, but it'll get the job done." He cracked his knuckles.

The thought was tempting, it really was, but Ava had gotten herself into this mess, she could get herself out. "No, I should play nice."

"You remember what I taught you now; always cover the face while you're hittin'. Lead with your left, sweetheart."

Ava grinned marginally. "Thanks, Dad."

Carter's smile evaporated when the door opened. He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing as he stared at father and daughter. "Hi…um, Ava…"

Chibs smiled, his first of the evening, and Ava didn't miss the evil twist to it. "C'mon then. I'll walk you kids out…go over some ground rules…"

**-O-**

The ride up to the Streams was filled with a whole lot of awkward silence. Ava sat in the passenger seat of his red Mustang – Juice _still _wasn't done with her truck – and watched trees flash by in the residual glow of the headlights, bored and regretting her decision to come. She knew that all eyes would be glued to her the moment she stepped out of the car.

"So…" Carter finally started. "What's up with your dad?"

"He wants to slaughter you," she deadpanned.

"No, um," he gulped. "I mean, where's he from? That accent ain't from Cali, man."

_Man. What a way to get a girl's panties off, calling her 'man'. _"He's Scottish," she said with a little sigh. She had much preferred the silence.

"As in from Scotland?"

"Originally. His years in Belfast messed up the brogue a bit."

"Belfast? I thought it was called Belgium. That's what Mr. Whitney said in Geo-,"

"It's a city in Ireland."

"Oh."

It was quiet a moment, and Ava prayed he had decided to shut up. But no such luck. "But your mom," his voice got that appreciative tone, the I-would-so-fuck-your-MILF-of-a-mom tone. "She's local, right?"

"Look," she sighed again. "It would take too much time and energy to reenact the _Filip and Maggie Telford Story_ for you. Wait for the Lifetime movie."

He grunted a response and then the silence descended again, thankfully. Ava rested her head against the window and closed her eyes, trying to shut out what was sure to be a horrible night. When her thoughts started to wander, they went in a very predictable direction.

**-O-**

Happy rotated his bar stool so that he faced the common room of the clubhouse, accidently catching the gaze of the girl he'd fucked the night before. She was all strung out on something, spray tanned and dyed blond. She'd been wretched between the sheets, a limp, dead fish who'd screamed loud enough to wake the dead. He hadn't even been able to finish inside her. Dumb bitch. She waved with her fingers and he kept looking; he'd rather help himself out later than deal with the likes of her again.

His sixth shot of whiskey was rolling in his gut as he contemplated his next move. For the first time in what felt like a long time, his head wasn't in the game. And he didn't fully understand why. But when he saw Juice at the pool table with Bobby, his anger was instant. He'd never before harbored any sort of negative feelings for the little retard – he actually liked the kid – but what he suspected was clouding his affection.

"Hey, man." Tig joined him, leaning over the bar to snag a beer out of the cooler, and Hap wished it was anyone else. Of all the guys, Tig would be the one most likely to pick up on the subtle shift of his mood.

"You okay?" the Sgt at Arms asked casually. "You're a little…" Happy shot him a dead look "…_tense_."

Shit. He shrugged.

"This weekend… is that shit getting to you?"

Happy raised a single brow. "It ain't my charter. I think that's your deal, bro."

Tig frowned, nose wrinkling up. "Yeah. Shit." He wiped a hand down his face and Hap felt safe for the moment – he'd managed to distract the other killer with his own biggest worries. But Tig, ever the rebounder, was looking for a distraction from club politics. "I hear you got a little friendly with that kid yesterday," his grin returned with wicked force. "What, he pushin' up on what's yours?"

He'd spent the past few weeks, months even, telling himself that Ava growing up wasn't affecting him at all. But when Tig put it so bluntly, it hit him like a slap in the face. He wasn't just protecting her in his capacity as "Uncle Happy", because hell, Maggie and Chibs were playing house these days. She didn't need him to ride to the rescue anymore. So it wasn't that, it was, shit – he couldn't stand the thought of her _being _with another guy, even if it was for her own good.

He was careful to keep his face neutral, but Tig's grin broadened. "Don't worry, bro. I gotcha." He winked, clapped him on the shoulder and then shoved away from the bar, heading towards a couch full of Crow Eaters.

Happy rubbed a tired hand back over his scalp. Fuck him, just fuck him.

**-O-**

From what she'd heard, Ava knew that the bonfire was usually held in the clearing behind the fishing cabin of one of the teachers, but the gravel drive Carter turned down wasn't lit or marked.

She sat up from her slump against the window. "Where are we going?" she asked above the ping of gravel against the undercarriage, the crunch under the tires. She strained to see into the dark forest. Branches snatched along the sides of the Mustang.

"The group gets bigger every year," Carter sounded excited that she'd actually asked him a question. "Coach Byers found this spot and suggested we move here. I hear it's really cool – some old burned out building or something."

With the words _Streams _and _burned out building _bouncing around in her head, Ava had a horrible suspicion. The terrain changed and the tires hissed over the wood planks of a bridge, then back to gravel. As Carter rounded the final corner, orange flames licked up into the velvet night, flooding an expansive clearing with dancing light. There were kids everywhere, cars and trucks parked in a semi circle at the edge of the trees. But through the chaos of folding buffet tables, plastic cups and laughing teenagers, Ava spotted the charred remains of a building frame; a blackened board thrusting up from the ground here and there. And suddenly she knew exactly where they were.

"You've gotta be _kidding _me!" she hissed, leaning forward against her seatbelt.

"What?" Carter asked as he cruised to a stop, turning to her as he slid the Mustang into park.

Bluebird. The high school had moved the bonfire to the site of the Sons' abandoned and blown up former gun warehouse. Explaining that to Carter seemed like a bad idea. And though the site had been abandoned long before she'd moved to Charming, it felt wrong to see all these shitheads from school up here. She remembered a dew soaked evening, the breeze cool as the sun slipped down, Tig kicking at scraps of debris and trying to spook her with a ghost story about two Mexican hookers who'd died in the fire. A strange and thrilling night out with her "uncles". Watching Becky Peterman prance across the gravel, red cup of no doubt spiked punch in her hands, the memory felt tainted.

"Ava?"

"I shouldn't have come," she said, throat dry.

"What? No, come on, no. This'll be fine. You'll have a good time."

She closed her eyes against the scene. She couldn't tell him that she hated the site of her two worlds mixing like this. She left her unfortunate life of text books and snotty cheerleaders behind every day she pushed through the school doors. And here it was, all over her club life, and rubbing the differences in her face. She didn't belong here. She was born out of the bullets and gun parts the wrecked warehouse had once housed, not the clueless yocals laughing it up in the burnt out shell.

"Why did you ask me to come with you?" she blurted, pegging him back against his seat with a hard look. "Why in the hell did you think I'd have a good time? Or that this would be okay?"

He stammered for a response.

"Do you think you're going to change me?" she was suddenly irrationally angry. "I'm not one of them, Carter. What did bringing me prove?"

"I _know _you're not like them," Carter found his voice. He gripped the steering wheel hard and stared through the windshield, shaking his head. "I get it okay? I know you're different from the other girls, but…shit…that's why I like being around you."

"But I'm not even _nice _to you."

It was quiet a moment. He couldn't deny that. "Every girl I know," he said at last ", has fake fingernails. And fake tans. And fake personalities to match. You -," he looked at her again, face pained. "You're the only person I know who would wear that shirt because you actually know and like Def Leppard. You're real, Ava. And your family scares the shit outta me…but, that's what makes you _you _I guess."

Ava was still a moment. This felt much too much like a trap; she could just see Freddie Prinz Jr. behind the wheel in his prom tux, pleading with her.

And if he was telling the truth? If he really felt that way?

She popped her door and climbed out, suddenly claustrophobic.

"Ava, wait!"

She kept walking and heard him crunching after her. This was some sort of nightmare – being chased across the old Bluebird property by the best running back in the county. She tried to ignore his calls as she headed toward the punch table. Her sneakers scuffed over a scrap of black wood and she remembered being just inside the tree line, backed up to a hard trunk, the bark rough through her shirt. Hap looming over her, stone faced and serious, breathing hard. The chill in the air had evaporated, the night becoming warm between them. _"You said when I was older, Hap. You promised. I'm fifteen…"_

A hand closed her over arm and reacted out of instinct, popping up a fist, twisting and rotating out of the other person's grasp. Carter stepped back, arms raised.

"Whoa. Look, I just wanted to tell you -,"

"Save it," she aid harshly, knowing she was being a bitch and unable to stop it. "Let's just get through this night and pretend it never happened. Go do whatever school spirit shit you gotta do, and I'll find a place to lay low. Just…leave me alone, Carter."

He sighed, looking utterly defeated. Ava didn't get it. "Yeah. I'll come find you in a little while."

She walked away from him before he could say anything else sappy, hoping the punch truly was spiked.

**-O-**

"Wassup, dude?"

Carter bumped knuckles across the buffet table with their second string running back – his understudy – Richie. "Aw, you know, man, nothing much." Truthfully, he'd been hiding out by the French onion dip, watching Ava and trying to understand why'd she'd rather sit in miserable silence by herself than hang with him. Was he really that much of a douche bag? Or had her biker parents turned her against all things normal?

"You come stag?" Richie asked, voice loud. The punch was definitely spiked. Coach Byers was going to hand out detentions like Halloween candy when he found out.

"No," he shot his friend a hard look. "Do I look like I can't get a date?"

Richie grinned and held up his hands. "Just checking, man. You come with Kate?"

Unable to help himself, Carter glanced across the clearing again, finding Ava. "No."

"What the fuck, dude? Kate's been all over you, that's a sure thing -,"

"I invited Ava Telford."

"_What_?" Richie spluttered, punch spraying everywhere. "And she came? Shit!"

The table got jostled as Richie came around to stand beside him, squinting through the flames to get a look at the girl sitting on the other side. He thumped Carter enthusiastically in the arm. "Damn…you gotta let me hit that when you're done with her. Girl's got to be a freak, ya know?"

"It's not like that," Carter said before he could stop himself.

His friend laughed. "You bring an SOA skank to a party – that's just about ass, man, and you know it. You seen that garage where they hang? The girls that come outta there? Shit, she's fucked all those guys by now, her own dad too probably."

Carter started to protest, but the words died in his throat. Because if he was honest with himself, all those thoughts had already crossed his mind. He ground his teeth together and was silent.

**-O-**

The bonfire was huge, and even twenty feet away, the smoke rolling off the flames was hot on Ava's face, making her eyes burn. She'd been staring at it for going on two hours now, giving dead looks at the kids who'd ventured over to her spot perched on an ancient, rusted and burned toolbox. She'd toed through the dirt and found ten live 9mm rounds, all of them now in her pocket to take back to her dad. The boys were going to have a field day with this.

She was still sitting, still staring blankly, when she heard the high, nails-on-a-chalkboard laughter of Jenny Stone. Cheerleader, blond, push-up bra, knock-off LV bag, stilettos amongst all this gravel and dirt – Jenny was straight off the set of some God-awful teen movie, all cackling laughter and wicked smiles. Tonight she was wearing too much makeup, a denim mini skirt and Hollister top she had to have driven halfway to LA to get. She looked like a Crow Eater before she'd been fucked by Tig and had all her sad disillusionment about how hot she was quite literally knocked out of her. Her doppelganger best friends, Stephanie and Megan flanked her, tossing their hair and giggling.

Jenny stopped when her painted eyes landed on Ava, mouth opening up in a little 'o' of disbelief. "Oh, shut up! Ava? Ava Telford actually showed her face outside of school?"

Ava gave her a withering look. "I'm here to man the bucket brigade when your weave catches fire."

Two passing guys halted, eyes snapping to the group of girls. Ava didn't think she'd spoken loudly, but her voice must have carried.

The comment bounced off Jenny, or at least it seemed too. She cracked another nasty grin and patted at her hair extensions. "Hmm. I thought you were the one they paid to give blow jobs."

Ava felt her jaw clench up, her hands balling into fists automatically.

Jenny sniggered. "Or was that your mommy?"

She leapt to her feet before she could check herself, chest pumping in fury. Of the four of them, she was the only one not fucking half of the football team, and somehow_ she_ was the whore. And her mother…you didn't bring Maggie into the mix and expect to get away with it.

"Nice threads," Stephanie chuckled. "The three dollar rack at the thrift store get too expensive? Had to go to Salvation Army?"

Ava knew that any more of this and she'd be rearranging a bitch's face. She brushed past the three idiots, fully intending on waiting inside Carter's Mustang until it was time to leave.

Jenny snagged the sleeve of her jacket, spinning her back around. "Who the fuck do you think you are, little girl? You think you can just come up here and get in our business? The Sons of Anarchy don't have a reason to be here, you little slut."

"You're on SOA property," Ava said through gritted teeth. "You're goddamn lucky I don't have my dad and his brothers run all your asses off."

"Ooh," Jenny held up her hands in mock surrender. "I'm terrified."

"Yeah? You should be," Ava bit out. She turned, again fighting the urge to haul off and deck the girl. She stalked off, needing to put as much space between them as possible. Every time Jenny spoke, it wasn't just the current insult, but all the previous ones that rang inside her head. _Whore, slut, biker bitch, dyke, inbred, redneck, piece of shit…_

"Everybody better watch out!" Jenny yelled from behind her. Ava saw the other students glance her way and wanted to disappear. "The biker slut's gonna go get her daddy!" she laughed. "The only thing scary about him is his fucked up face!"

_His fucked up face._

His cheeks that had been sliced clean open with a knife. It had nearly killed him.

_His fucked up face._

Ava saw red. Knowing what had happened to her father, painfully aware of all the horrible atrocities committed against him throughout his life, and knowing that he was still easy and funny and called her darlin' and kissed her on the cheek each morning before she left for school…she snapped.

Ava whirled around, enraged. "You shut the _fuck _up about my da, bitch!"

It fell completely silent. The fire hissed and crackled, the sound system thumped, but all the side conversations and whispers halted. Ava faced off from Jenny and her friends, seething, fingers twitching, and it took her a moment to realize what had just happened.

The buzz of hushed voices started up again. Jenny coughed a laugh. "Oh my God…"

Oh _shit_. Ava replayed her outburst and, with horror, realized that she'd just hurled out a fresh-off-the-boat, full-on Scottish accent, loud and authentic enough to make her dad proud. And she'd even called him 'da'. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…_

She felt every stare, every chuckle, and knew they were all directed at her. As if she wasn't enough of an outcast already, she had to go all Scotswoman on everybody.

"Ava." Carter's voice sounded softly beside her and it was the last thing she wanted to hear. She held up a hand to stave him off.

In front of her, Jenny and her friends were laughing hysterically, clutching their sides. "Freak!" the cheerleader managed between giggle fits.

Ava recalled her lessons in the clubhouse ring, hands bound up with padded gloves, her dad positioning her just right. Juice across from her, taking the hits but not giving any of his own, too afraid of Chibs' glare to touch his girl. She remembered the sweat and smell of baby powder on her knuckles. Her father's bellows of approval as she smacked the bag.

She was moving before she was aware of it, charging across the gravel. Her left arm came up to guard her face, her right snapping forward. Jenny's smile turned to a shriek right before Ava's hook connected. She knew she should lead with her left, but this wasn't a trained opponent.

The whole thing only lasted a matter of seconds. Ava landed blow after blow to the other girl; her nose crunching, blood spurting, face yielding to the punches. Then Ava's arms were suddenly wrenched away and she was being drug backwards, kicking the whole time.

"What the hell?" she recognized Coach Byers' voice and figured he must be one of the sets of hands hauling her backwards.

Other students were crouched around Jenny, helping her up to a sitting position. Coach Henley was pressing a towel to her bloodied nose.

As her sanity returned, Ava felt her stomach drop out of the soles of her shoes. She'd just attacked another student at a school function. Her AP classes, potential scholarships…she could kiss all that goodbye.

Her eyes landed on Carter who stood at the edge of the fray. And rather than frightened, he looked sad. Almost like he was sorry for her. Pity was worse than all the goading and fun-making. So much worse.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Once again, thank you so much for all the great feedback. I feel like I ought to apologize or something because Hap's been so soft up to this point, but he will get to show his true colors – not now, but soon. **

"Can somebody tell me where the fuck the _Chief_ is?"

Ava could hear her mother through the thin walls of the interrogation room. Chibs was the loud one, but when it came to parental matters, he shut up and let Maggie play the bad guy. And play it she did. There were hushed murmurs from the secretaries and desk officers, no doubt all of them trying to mollify the enraged Sam Crow Old Lady before she got half the town riled up. And before the exalted Chief of Police could be embarrassed in any way.

Ava folded her arms over the table top and then lowered her head. She'd gone from being forcibly held by the football coaches, to _cuffed _in front of all the biggest shitheads in her school, had ridden in the back of a cruiser to the station, and now awaited _questioning _about her _attack. _The whole thing was ludicrous and terrifying.

She shuffled through the mental deck of Sons she knew – let's see, what would Tigger do? Give the cops the finger. That was no good. Her dad was a yeller, and a cusser, prone to ending up slammed down to the table face-first. No, she would take Happy's tactic, because surprise surprise, she set her watch by the man.

She wiped her eyes a final time, straightened her spine, and waited for whatever was coming through that door.

**-O-**

Maggie was way beyond pissed, venturing into livid territory. "I want Hale," she said darkly to the blond uni behind the reception desk. "You tell Little Davey Do-Gooder to get his brown-nosin' ass out here _now_, or we're gonna have bigger problems then a cheerleader with a busted face."

Chibs offered the poor kid a facial shrug. "Best do what she says; you don't wanna see her…'Ey!"

Maggie smoothed her hand down his chest where she'd just smacked him. "Chief Hale," she told the cop with fake sweetness. "Please."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You hit me," Chibs was indignant as the officer went in search of his boss.

"You deserved it." She scanned the linoleum and painted concrete of the lobby and sighed. "Jesus, I've picked a lot of people up here – just didn't expect Ava."

"I'm proud of her," Chibs said with a smile. "Don't take no shit – just like her Old Man."

Maggie rolled her eyes.

"What, like you've never hit a bitch before?"

Maggie tried and failed to control the wry smile that tugged at her lips. She shook her head. "We're God-awful parents, you know that?"

He kept smiling, all innocent and cute. "No, I don't know that."

Maggie heard the clank of cuffs and keys and whatever other shit Hale kept on his gun belt, and turned to see the newly appointed Chief striding from his back office, that smug, cop-like look on his face. He was so official it made her want to vomit.

"Guys," he greeted with a not-so-friendly nod as he reached the counter. "I trust my deputy filled you in on the charges?"

Maggie's arms seemed to fold of their own accord. It didn't matter how old he got or what his title was, Hale would always be the scrawny kid tagging after Jax and Opie and getting spurned for it in her eyes. "And I'm supposed to just go along with some gang banger's accusation that my girl _forcefully attacked _an _innocent student _with _no provocation whatsoever_?"

Hale put one hand on his hip and held up the other in a 'stop' gesture. "Now, Maggie, just calm down a second -,"

"Keith Byers is hooked up with the Nords, Hale, and you know it. You gonna take his word over a seventeen-year-old girl's?"

He sighed. "You don't have any proof that Byers is affiliated with the Nords. And I can't treat Ava as just another seventeen-year-old girl."

Maggie felt the toe of one boot start tapping and couldn't stop. "Why's that? 'Cause you're letting personal beefs get in the way of your job again?"

Hale's face went from patient to pissed in a heartbeat. "That's not what this is about -,"

"Then explain it to me. 'Cause it seems like my kid's being punished because of who she is, and not what she's done."

"She broke the girl's nose, Maggie," he said quietly. "That isn't schoolyard bullshit, that's assault. Knowing her…_influences_…just makes it that much worse."

Maggie was furious, but at the same time…everyone, even Tara had been hauled in for something. She herself had beaten the ever loving shit out of Fiona Larkin. She sighed. "I know she had her reasons. Ava…she wouldn't do this just for kicks."

Hale inclined his head in reluctant agreement. "Then let's find out."

**-O-**

Ava had expected one of the nameless, faceless uniforms to take her statement, and was surprised to be sitting opposite Chief Hale. Maggie was beside her, a reassuring hand on her thigh, squeezing every so often. Hale took quick, precise notes on a yellow legal pad as she recounted the tale. She left out the part about being provoked verbally; she knew it wouldn't do any good.

Hale glanced up when she was finished, dumbfounded. She supposed no one associated with the club ever cooperated while in custody. She just kept thinking of Happy and his quiet stoicism.

"Ava…" he flipped back through his notes ", would you like to tell me _why _you hit Jennifer?" There was something almost compassionate about his voice.

She shrugged tiredly. "She said something that pissed me off."

Hale sighed and glanced at Maggie, then back at her. "Ava, I'm trying to help you here. I know you're not…" _like the rest of your family_ "…violent. If she tried to get you riled up, if she threatened you -,"

"I threatened her actually."

"Ava," Maggie's voice was low, pleading. "If this was justifiable -,"

"It wasn't. I'm just a mean bitch."

Hale frowned and leaned back in his chair. "Well, lucky for you the Stones aren't pressing charges."

Maggie huffed a sigh of relief.

"But since this was a school function, your principal can do whatever she wants as far as punishing you goes. I can't help you there."

Ava nodded.

Her palms got sweaty, started to itch as Hale walked them out front again, as the weight of what she'd done started to sink in. Maggie had to fill out her release paperwork, and she realized she couldn't wait. Her breath was coming in uneven hiccups and she was rubbing her hands against her leggings.

Maggie glanced up knowingly. "Daddy's outside with the guys."

She didn't know who constituted as "the guys" at one a.m., but she didn't care. Chibs was outside on the precinct steps, smoking with Juice and Happy. Great.

Her dad turned as she approached, and the flare at the end of his cigarette lit his face up from underneath, making his scars painfully obvious. Ava couldn't stop the tears that sprang up at the memory of what Jenny had said. She had been insulted more times than she could count…but hearing those nasty things said about her family…

She covered her mouth as her hiccups took a turn towards sobs. It was late and she was tired and a little bit terrified and couldn't stop herself.

Hap noticed first, she could see his eyes widen and darken in the meager light of the security lamp. Seeing his worry only made her cry harder. Chibs' face fell. "Darlin'…"

She sat down hard on the top step, hands over her face in an attempt to hide her tears. She hated that it wasn't just her dad, but Juice and Happy too who were seeing her like this.

"What was it?" Chibs asked quietly as he sat beside her. "You hurt?"

She shook her head. "No."

"What's wrong, luv?"

She didn't have the heart to tell him. She glanced up, wiping her face with the shoulder of her jacket, and caught Hap's gaze. He looked ready to pound the shit out of someone. And for some reason, that made her smile, just the tiniest bit.

"Well, whoever it was, I hope you clocked him a good one," Chibs said.

"It was that Jenny girl from math class," she sniffed hard, trying to pull her tears back into check.

"Ooh, chick fight? Damn," Juice whistled appreciatively.

She coughed a sad laugh. The big idiot really was good for something every once in a while.

**-O-**

Happy hated to see her cry. It was a rare occurrence; she never got all blubbery over boys or ruined clothes. The last time he'd seen her cry her mother had been pulling some Evel Knievel shit on the side of the road with the Irish.

Now her mascara was leaving dark streaks on her pale face and she was wrestling so hard to get her emotions back under control. She didn't want to look at them. Whatever that bitch had said to get her all riled up, it had been nasty.

He took a hard drag on his smoke and saw Juice leaning back against a concrete pillar. Hap frowned; feeling like the little idiot had absolutely no business here.

"I gotta make sure your mum hasn't castrated somebody," Chibs told her quietly, earning a pitiful chuckle, and headed back inside, a hard look directed at Happy. _Watch her. _He nodded.

Juice was staring at Ava while he worked on his own cigarette, face all screwed up with worry, but he had yet to make a move. Happy wasn't sure if that was out of respect, fear, or indifference, but he wasn't going to wait around to find out which. He took a step forward and leaned down, one boot propped on the steps. He lifted her chin with a curled knuckle, moving his hand away, not letting his touch linger on her satin skin. She looked almost startled, but relaxed when her teary eyes landed on him.

"They were talkin' shit about your Old Man, weren't they?" he asked, voice intentionally low. In his periphery, he saw Juice quirk one eyebrow.

Ava's lids lowered and she sighed, almost ashamed. "I shouldn't have let it -," she hiccupped " – get to me, but…" she shook her head.

He had this fleeting memory of watching his mother smile, soft and sad, but resolute while she waited for death to come. And it had come slowly, taking her strength and vitality, finally her mind, making him a stranger to her before it was over. But there had been a few months when she was in hospice, when she'd smiled and had still known him. His soul was completely empty and devoid of all feeling, morality, and guilt – save for when he had been with his mother. And now, for seventeen years, when he was with the girl. He hated the feelings almost as much as he hated the fact that she was hurting. Emotions did dangerous things to a man in the MC; had him taking stupid risks, getting comfortable, had him thinking about inconsequential things like the way the security light danced over the shiny crown of her hair. Or the fact that he was literally going to decapitate Juice if he took so much as one step closer to her.

"Nah, you did good," he assured her. And before he could stop himself, his thumb made a quick pass over her cheek, sweeping her tears away, smudging her makeup even more.

The smile she turned up at him was half-assed, but thankful anyway. "Only you would say that, Hap."

"Yeah, well…" he moved around and took Chibs' seat on the step beside her.

She sighed, the sound soft and breathy, and then leaned against him, sliding an arm through the one he had braced against his knee. His whole body came alive at the contact and he felt sick for it. A quick glance towards Juice revealed no suspicion or disapproval – like the others, he assumed this was still leftover, Tacoma bodyguard shit.

**-O-**

The rain finally came Sunday morning, light and even, pattering against the windows. Ava had awakened with a hard knot of dread in her stomach. She'd been unable to sleep and her eyes were gritty from the previous night's tears. She had forced every bite of breakfast and stared blankly out the window on the drive over to Gemma and Clay's.

Now she was staring at Tara's huge belly, wondering how the rest of her could still be so small. The doc was acting as secretary, jotting down the ideas Maggie and Gemma were throwing back and forth. So far, their girls' afternoon wasn't doing anything to take her mind off her Monday morning meeting with the principal.

"You know, as much food as we're gonna need…shit, let's just have it catered," Gemma said, waving her hands over the recipe cards she'd laid out on the coffee table. "They'll all be so drunk off their asses they won't appreciate my cooking anyway."

"What?" Maggie snorted. "Two extra big sacks of burgers from Lumpy's?"

"There's that barbecue place on the way to Pope. We'd have to send someone to pick it up, but -,"

"That's what Prospects are for."

"Yup."

"Oh," Tara set her pad down, folding her hands over her stomach. "I checked with that framer if you're still interested, Gemma. He says a shadow box will run you somewhere in the forty dollar range."

Gemma shook her head. "I'm not sure if Clay'll go for that anyway."

She shrugged. "Worth a shot. She gathered her empty plate and began the arduous task of standing. Halfway though her eighth month and she was starting to have difficulty with the simplest of things.

"Oh no, Mama," Gemma stood quickly and took the doc's plate. "You stay put. You want more coffee cake?"

Tara shook her head, settling back on the sofa. "No, thanks."

Ava watched the Queen head into the kitchen with the dirty plates and was, as always, amazed at the woman's agenda. If you weren't one of her boys, or a blood-linked female relative, Gemma didn't give a shit about you. She and Tara were on amicable, if not lovable, terms these days, but Ava knew that had everything to do with Jax, Abel, and the new little Teller growing in her belly. Loving Tara was a necessity, and Gemma would thus never have that intense, sister-like camaraderie that she and Maggie shared. Hell, most of the time Ava wondered if she didn't rank higher on the list than the doc.

"You still feeling okay?" Maggie asked.

Tara nodded. "Other than having to pee every fifteen minutes, yeah…"

Ava slowly and efficiently tuned them out as she receded back into her own problems again. She could envision Principal Sharp's face, that pinched fury that someone, anyone had dared fuck with the precious football team; least of all an SOA hoodlum.

Though the Morrow living room was cavernous, the walls started closing in again, like they had the night before in the precinct. She fished her cell out of her pocket and slipped into the dining room for a little privacy, hitting six on her speed dial as she plopped into a chair.

"Yo?" Juice answered on the third ring. "What up?"

_What a dork…_"Juice, it's Ava. You aren't by any chance done with my truck, are you?"

"Yeah, actually. I got done yesterday afternoon."

"Ugh. Why didn't you tell me, ya eejit?"

He made the noise that always accompanied a shrug.

"Come get me?" She asked, careful to put a pleading note into her voice.

He sighed. "Yeah. Where are you?"

"Gemma's."

"Ten minutes, babe."

**-O-**

The wait had been worth it; Juice had outdone himself on her truck. He opened all four doors when they got back to the clubhouse, and they walked around in the rain, she was snuggling down in the hood of her sweatshirt against the rain, while he waved and pointed out all the upgrades. She now had a sound system that could make one of Laroy's guys jealous.

Juice was leaned over in front of one of her door speakers and glanced up to say something, when he frowned. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She wiped at her forehead, feeling the damp spots where rain was dripping off the edge of her hood. "Why?"

"You look sick."

"Gee, thanks…"

"No, I mean…you alright?" he repeated.

She started to lie and didn't have the energy. "No," she said, voice sounding small against the rush of rain on the pavement. "Not really."

He shut her truck up and then walked her over to one of the tables under the clubhouse roof overhang, sitting on top and patting the wood beside him.

"I am so fucked, Juice," she said before he could ask again, pushing her soaked hood back. He was looking at her, wide-eyed and sympathetic. "It would have been easier if I'd gotten arrested. Now…"

"Hey, I think we all fucked ourselves over in high school," he said with a chuckle.

She shook her head. "It's not the same, I…shit. Mom wants me to go to college. I've worked so hard to _not _be the biker tart the whole school thinks I am…" she wanted to cry again, like a sap, and pressed her fingertips against her closed eyes as if to keep the tears in.

Juice was quiet a moment. "Um…you wanna make out?"

She rolled her head sideways, intending to glare at him, but couldn't when she saw his goofy smile.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Sorry. Just trying to cheer you up."

She knew deep down that it was her prone state getting the best of her, but looking at Juice and his electrifying combo of cute and sexy, she wondered yet again what was wrong with her. It was like her attraction for him had a quota, a threshold she couldn't get past. She should have thought Carter was cute, or any number of the other boys at school. She should have been like every other girl her age, drooling over a Robert Pattinson poster. But she wasn't, because she was seriously fucked up in the head. "I'm sorry, Juice," she blurted before she could stop herself. "I'm using you and I'm sorry."

"Using me?" he pulled back, grin incredulous. "Are you serious?"

She couldn't return his smile. "I'm just being stupid and I'm gonna get you in trouble with the club."

"It's just dumb shit," he played it off. "You're not doing anything wrong."

She thought of Carter and his pitying look of disappointment. The only reason she'd gone to the bonfire – the same reason she stole kisses from Juice when no one was looking – was because she was trying to deny and shake off the yearning that had plagued her for years. She was trying to find a substitute for Happy and it wasn't working. Worse than that, she was playing with other people's reputations.

Ava pulled in a deep, steadying breath. "No, it _is_ wrong. And I gotta stop."

Juice took his time shaking out a smoke and lighting it up, exhaling the first drag with a hiss. "Whatever you want, kid," he said finally. Then quieter ", Does he know you're still carrying the torch?"

Panic flared, jump starting her pulse into high gear. "Does who know?"

He gave her a _really? _look, than glanced away. "You know that…shit….you know it's not right, Ava. He's -,"

"I don't know who you're talking about, so just drop it."

Juice sighed, but didn't say anything else.

Ava watched the rain, searching the falling water for answers. It gave her none.

**-O-**

Happy was glad he was alone in the clubhouse, because he'd hate to get caught sneaking glimpses through the blinds like Gemma. But as he'd suspected, Ava and Juice were outside on one of the picnic tables talking. He couldn't tell what was said, but she kept rubbing at her eyes. Juice leaned his head in close several times. It was too intimate for his liking.

Pissed with himself, he retreated to the sofa and clicked on the TV, shuffling through channels without any interest. Ava Telford _was not _his problem anymore. She had two functioning parents and two grown-ass cousins with families…she didn't need him.

He had managed to shove all his mental bullshit aside and focus on an episode of _Horsepower TV _when the clubhouse door squealed open. He didn't have to look to see who it was; the soft scrape of sneakers on the hardwood was answer enough.

Women in heels of all styles and heights had come stalking through the room at him, and somehow his head snapped around harder at the sound of an old pair of All Stars than it ever had for some random bitch. It was raining outside and there were crystal drops beaded in Ava's hair, dark wet splotches on the shoulders of her hoodie. The wet made her face seem thinner, paler, her eyes and brows standing out in stark relief like those of a painted doll.

A noticeable blush rose in her cheeks as she headed past him towards the bar. She cast her eyes downward, but watched him from under her lashes. "Hey."

"Hey, baby."

She froze, brows shooting up, the resemblance to her father striking.

It took Hap a second to realize what he'd said. He tried to chalk it up to a casual slip; something Gemma or Maggie or Jax would say to her, a familial thing. But he'd thrown out the generic _baby _like he would to a woman. The mistake angered him.

"Hey, kid," he corrected, voice hard. He made a point of studying the TV but still managed to catch her crestfallen expression from the corner of his eye.

Happy could tell from the hiss of air escaping the cooler, the clink of glass, that she had come in for a drink. She was, as far as he knew, the first daughter of a Son to be raised in the Redwood charter. It wasn't an envious position to be in; walking the line between town and club life, staying a kid while surrounded by so much adult shit, wanting to grow up faster than she should so she would belong, and yet pushed back by fathers and cousins who didn't want her tangled up with the darker side of things.

For Happy, bitches came and went, nameless and faceless, and only two women had been constant and dear to him. His mama – which was a given – and his girl. Now protection was turning to possession, his affection changing gears. He turned his head, watching her come around the bar, intending on saying something to diffuse his harshness. Instead, his mind started playing tricks on him again.

In a flash he saw her sinking down to her knees, hands sliding up his thighs. He imagined the peek of smooth, pale skin he'd be able to see when she leaned forward and her shirt gapped at the front, the shadow that would slip down between her breasts. She would smile; flash those dimples, curious, innocent and devilish all at once. He knew without a doubt that she would do whatever he said. All it would take was one look, one hint. He had imagined the butterfly softness of her mouth, the way the skin of her thighs would feel under his hands.

Her compliance would be absolute. She would take him however hard or rough, as many times as he wanted. And then whatever future she was headed towards would evaporate. She wouldn't walk away from him and he wouldn't be able to let her go. She'd be stuck in Charming, another woman lost needlessly to the club.

And because he hadn't been willing to corrupt her yet, Juice was going to step in and do the job for him. His hand cranked down on the arm of the sofa. The mohawked idiot was going to do the very thing Hap had been trying so hard to prevent.

"Hap?" her voice pulled him out of his own head.

"What, kid?"

"Are you okay?"

Her eyes were red-rimmed, clothes soaked. She was no doubt worrying over the consequences of her fight, and she was asking if he was okay. No one asked if he was okay, because he was _always _okay. His shit was together, his head on straight, his heart on lockdown…and somehow she saw through all of that. He wondered how the person most naïve was the one who really saw him, and how she could possibly be that young. The centers of her eyes seemed a hundred years old.

"Yeah. I'm cool."

Ava looked like she wanted so say something else, but she nodded and left, tilting her Coke can in farewell.

She was smart like that.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: The warning is still in effect because...well, you'll see...**

Coach Byers had some sort of horrid nose whistle, presumably the result of an old football injury, and it was the only sound in the room, shrill and annoying. Ava held her breath, fingers clenched down tight on her knees. Behind her desk, Principal Sharp was smug, reading glasses perched low on her nose. Ava glanced at the clock, watching the second hand, waiting for the explosion.

_Three…two…_

"Excuse me?" Maggie's voice had that angry vibrato to it, the one that – Ava would never tell her out loud – made her sound like her mother.

Mrs. Sharp nearly smiled, enjoying the moment. "If you would refer to the parent manual, you'd see that I'm actually being quite generous."

"_Ten _days OSS? _Ten_? Are you aware that…" Maggie had to stop, and bit her lip hard to hold back what she wanted to say. Ava watched her mother with a shocked detachment.

"I am _very _aware," the principal went on ", that I have a star student and athlete missing class because she was violently assaulted. _That's _what I'm aware of, Mrs. Telford."

"You wanna talk star student?" Maggie swept a hand towards Ava's chair. "Straight 'A's, all honors, winner of every goddamn art fair this school's ever hosted -,"

"We don't allow cursing in my school. I'm afraid it sets a bad example for the children."

Ava saw her mom's vicious glare cut over to the football coach. Maggie snorted angrily. "Bad example? You got white hate in your school and I'm a bad example?"

Mrs. Sharp ignored the accusation, shuffling the papers on her desk. "Ava will have an opportunity to plead her case for reinstatement after the suspension period is over," she said lightly. "However, if we find sufficient evidence that her violent behavior will continue, I'm afraid she'll have to attend one of the county's alternative schools."

_Alternative school. _That was where Columbine wannabes and junkies went. Pregnant teens and unfixable behavior problems. _Oh God…_

Propped up in the corner, Coach Byers was grinning to himself; no doubt thrilled that he was finally able to stick it to someone linked to the club. His childhood beef with Jax hadn't been forgotten.

Ava felt sick to her stomach. She knew better, damnit. She _knew _that someone like Jenny Stone would get a free pass, that the school already had wet dreams about expelling her; for fear, for retaliation against the Sons, maybe even for past grudges against particular members of her family. When a biker's daughter went up against a cheerleader, the all-American pep squad bimbo won every time.

Maggie had been silent for a long stretch, both other adults now staring at her, waiting on her to say something expectedly threatening.

Instead, Maggie smiled. Ava felt her shoulders sag with relief. She didn't like that it had come to this, but she knew now that this whole disaster was out of her hands. As her mom uncrossed her legs and settled back in her chair, absently tidying her hair like Gemma always did, Ava knew that the tables had just turned.

"That's too bad," Maggie said. Her voice had changed completely, light and conversational. She stood slowly, taking her time in straightening her clothes. "Come on, kiddo."

Ava pushed herself up on shaky knees.

"Maybe we can catch your dad and give him the bad news before he heads off to that meet with Elliot."

Ava may have been reeling, but she wasn't so out of it she couldn't take the hint. She forced her tone to match her mother's, high, innocent and feminine. "Daddy's having a meeting with the mayor?"

Mrs. Sharp paled, just a little, and Maggie grinned. "Yeah, baby. He is." She pulled her denim jacket off the back of the chair and folded it over an arm. The smile she shot the principal was venomous. "You have a nice afternoon, Mrs. Sharp. We'll be seeing you."

No sooner were they out of the school than Maggie was digging her cell out of her bag.

"We aren't actually going to Oswald about this, are we?" Ava asked as they walked towards the parking lot.

"If we have to? Absolutely. But we'll start with the boys."

**-O-**

"How many days?" Jax was incredulous.

So was Hap, but he wasn't going to make a spectacle of himself.

"Ten," Maggie repeated. She had her arms folded, propped up at the end of the bar. Her hazel eyes flashed with something besides anger. Happy recognized it; that disbelieving sadness and fury that her baby was being treated unfairly.

She looked at him in particular. Smart woman – trying to get someone besides her husband or cousin on her side. Sneaky bitch.

"What the fuck's an alternative school?" Chibs demanded. The Scotsman was livid, toying with an unsheathed knife, digging little pits in the bar top with it.

"It's where they send problem kids," Tig said almost cheerfully. "You know, the ones who kill cats and beat up little girls."

"Stuff it, Tig," Maggie snapped.

Jax and Chibs added their own renditions, theirs of course more colorful.

"Hold it!" Clay slammed his beer down on a table, catching everyone's attention. "Everybody cool their shit, alright? Maggie," he aimed a finger at her ", the phones ain't answering themselves. Let us handle this, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Clay." she smiled and flipped Tig the bird on her way out.

Happy didn't miss the look she shot Chibs before she slipped through the door. _If you guys don't fucking fix this, I'LL handle it._

Oh, this was going to get handled alright, even if he had to do it alone. Though considering the girl's cousin and father's responses, that wouldn't be necessary. Shame – he was feeling volatile enough lately that he'd enjoy a solo hit.

"This isn't really about Ava," Opie said beside Chibs. "Kids get in fights all the time and they do, what, three or four days max? This is about Byers."

Jax nodded. "That asshole's still pissed at the club 'cause of what me and Ope did years ago. Takin' out frustrations about his shit life on the kid."

"Maggie said he was in with the Nords, we know that for sure?" Clay asked.

"His old man used to be, but I think he kicked it last year. Juice can do some digging."

Except for his comment to Maggie, Tig had been silent throughout. He shook his head.

"What?" Clay asked him.

"We really wanna do this? Get in some beef with the goddamned _school_? I mean, it sucks for the kid, but shit happens. You gotta take the hit sometimes."

"What was that?" the knife stilled in Chibs' hands, blade pointed outwards. "You wanna say it a little louder, _brother_?"

"She's a kid, Tig," Jax was pissed.

"Hey, what did I just say? Huh?" Clay demanded. He waited for the room to fall silent again. "Look, things are quiet right now on the home front and I'd like to keep 'em that way, especially considering…" there were some uncomfortable looks traded ", but, Ava's our girl, right?"

Chibs smiled.

"And honestly," the President grinned ", I've been a little bored."

They had two weeks until Ava's meet with the shithead from the school board, and it was quickly decided that it would be smarter to try and do things through intel and blackmail to begin with. Gemma had amassed a list of contacts through her Taste of Charming gig and Juice would start there; hacking files, sorting for indiscretions that could be used to twist an arm. They would hit up Darby and the Nazi Network, see if they could spook Byers. Clay, Chibs and Jax would talk to Oswald. And if that failed, there was the last ditch option of paying the head of the school board a little night time visit.

Hap was itching to go after Darby, today if possible. Thinking about the girl being expelled, kept from what she was good at because of town politics had his blood boiling. He'd had too much to drink the night before and now his head hurt. Couple that with his nagging guilt and as he watched Juice crack open his laptop, all helpful and shit, he was irrationally angry with him. For years he'd been a one man army, and now suddenly it took a whole charter to get retribution for Ava. Thinking about her and Juice on the picnic table and watching the geek now, knowing what he was thinking…

"Hap."

He was so lost in his own head he nearly ran into Chibs.

"Yeah?"

Chibs lifted a brow as if to question the growl behind his words, but left it alone. "You do me a favor? Maggie's workin' and we'll be out…" he dropped his voice a notch ", I don't trust those shithead kids who got Ava in trouble. 'Specially not that boy. You ride by and check on her for me?"

Part of him screamed for the job. But alone in the house with her was the last place he needed to be at the moment. He couldn't trust himself any more; yesterday's slip had been proof of that.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I'll check in."

**-O-**

Ava had greatly misjudged the amount of time it would take to turn into a total vegetable. All her text books were stacked at the edge of the coffee table, calculator, pencils, paper, sketch pad…and instead she was stretched out on the couch with a bag of Hershey's Kisses watching QVC.

"Authentic rubies at an all time low," she mimicked. "Riiiiight."

When the doorbell sounded, her hand automatically slipped under the couch cushions, fingers curling around the butt of the .22 she'd hidden there earlier. Her mother hadn't raised a dummy. Ditching the candy on the table, she moved her right hand deftly back by half a breath, keeping the little revolver out of sight but not drawing suspicion to it as she went to the door.

She expected anyone, and no one who was actually supposed to be there. She checked the peep hole and muscles she hadn't known were clenched relaxed when she saw Happy.

"What's going on?" she greeted when the door was open.

His dark eyes flicked to the .22 and then back to her face, hard. "You gonna shoot me?"

She smiled. "Maybe. You gonna give me a reason?" He continued to stare at her, almost angrily she thought, and her grin slipped. This was like the day before in the clubhouse. When her pulse had started jack-hammering in her ears at the rough, smoky way he'd called her _baby_, and then he'd retracted it just as quickly. He'd seemed so mad at her then, jaw rigid. He looked like that now. "Hap, are you -,"

"Clay's lookin' into the shit at your school," he interrupted brusquely, pushing past her into the house.

"Okay…" she pushed the door to, listening to his heavy footfalls head into the living room.

"Your dad wanted me to come check on you."

Of course. Her dad. Because God knew Hap wanted to be anywhere but here at the moment. She turned and saw him pacing around the living room, glancing around for boogeymen lurking in the corners. Ava sighed. Two nights before, he'd brushed her tears away, soft and gentle, and now he was anxious to be anywhere but near her. He'd been off lately, moody and unlike himself, but this was verging on strange.

"That was sweet of you," she baited the hook, wondering where this was going.

His lip curled in a sneer as he sat on the sofa. "I'm just doing what I'm told, darlin'."

_Orders. Orders and obligations. _This was not the Happy she knew, far from it actually. A cold chill rippled through her when she wondered if this was the man the Crow Eaters saw. She dismissed the thought instantly, anger flashing at the thought of him with the women she knew he fucked routinely.

"I'm sorry," she tried and failed to keep the hurt out of her voice. "Sorry you had to come babysit. I'm fine though, you don't have to stick around if it pisses you off so bad."

He had been looking at the TV, but glanced at her. He sighed. "Fuck…nah, I just. Shit, I didn't mean it like that."

She cocked a brow, not believing it for a second. He'd been bipolar for weeks, and this was the worst dark spell yet.

Hap didn't smile, but she thought his face relaxed. "C'mon. I didn't…" he rubbed a hand back across his scalp. "How 'bout a beer?'

Ava fetched him a Budweiser and stood at the arm of the couch, frowning when he took it from her without acknowledgement. "Why are you acting like this?" she asked quietly, unable to help herself.

He didn't answer and it fueled her unease. "Did I do something to make you mad?"

"What?" He gave her a disbelieving sideways look, then shook his head. "No."

"Bullshit."

He scowled. "Will you just sit down for Christsakes? Makin' me twitchy."

Twitchy wasn't the word she would choose. She glanced at the couch, then at Hap, weighing the significance of her anger. A small voice in the back of her head told her to show him the door. _He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want you. You're a chore to him…_

Ava turned sideways, knees brushing his as she slipped by the coffee table. She sat against the opposite arm of the sofa, as far away from him as possible, setting the gun on top of her books. If he noticed the distance, he didn't say anything.

Her subconscious, however, had plenty to say; reminding her that Happy was well aware of the way she felt about him, that he _knew _what he was doing when he was nice one second and nasty the next. He was playing her. Here she'd been so worried about toying with Juice or Carter, and she was the one caught in the trap. Happy gave her just enough to keep her holding on, and had been slowly killing her with indifference for the past few months.

Why was he even here now? Couldn't they have sent the Prospect to check on her? Why did he even agree to come if he was so sick of her?

The question came tumbling out of her before she could think better of it. "If you're not mad at me, why won't you even _look _at me anymore?" she heard the anger in her voice. She had this sudden feeling of compassion towards her mother; all those times Maggie had thrown down the gauntlet with Chibs. It had been about pride. No matter how much she loved him, the defiance in her blood wouldn't let her go along with some of the stories he'd spun. Ava felt like that now.

The beer landed hard on the coffee table and she could see the bunch and strain of muscles beneath his t-shirt and cut. She was tapping into a whole different type of anger with him, but his voice was level when he spoke. "I _am _looking at you -,"

"That's not what I mean," she snapped. "You've been weird for weeks and I don't know how to fix whatever I did if you won't tell me, Hap." She had his full attention now, and for the first time in memory, the look in his eyes frightened her.

When he spoke, his voice was more of a growl, and the words unexpected. "What are you doing with Juice?"

"_What_?"

"What," his tone became dreadfully calm ", are you doing with Juice?"

"I'm not doing -,"

"Don't lie to me, Ava."

Had she been caught by her dad, or any of the other guys really, she would have been ashamed and scrambling for a cover story. Happy knowing had her incensed. Of all people…

"What's it to you?" she asked quietly.

He was furious. "Is he _fucking _you?"

_No, I cut off the make out sessions because I felt guilty. Because of you. _"Not yet."

He moved so quickly she didn't have time to react. His hand shot out and Ava gasped, sure he intended to hit her, and then just as quickly he shoved off the couch, stalking away, leaving her untouched.

Pulse throbbing in her ears, she followed.

"Why would you be so stupid?" he asked roughly. "You can't rub up on guys, Ava." He was almost to the door, she was hot on his heels, and he whirled around. "Do you not understand that someone's gonna fuck you if you keep actin' like this? Huh? You think Juice can say no?"

_Stupid. _The insult rang in her ears. Yeah, she was pretty damn stupid these days. "Except you, right?" she bit out. "I disgust you enough that _you _can say no."

He was so still for a moment she thought he must have quit breathing. The TV rumbled in the background and she could hear traffic outside on the street, but the air between them was heavy with silence. She wondered how long he'd stare daggers at her before he stormed out, how high he'd allow the tension to rise. Angry as she was, she still hated for the spell to break, because Happy looked completely wild at the moment and though it broke her heart, she'd never wanted him more.

Then he grabbed her.

Ava couldn't stop the little squeal that escaped when he pushed her back against the wall, his hands hard and tight on her arms. He pressed into her, trapped her. The fight left her in a rush, pushed out by the new excitement that flooded her system.

His eyes were murderous. One hand moved to the wall beside her head, the other to her neck. Fear spiked and then faded just as fast at the feel of his thumb stroking up the thin column of her throat. He pressed, just a fraction, at her windpipe and she was forced to lift her chin, tilt her head back and meet his gaze. It must have been the reaction he wanted, because he leaned in closer, hips pinning her, letting her feel his hard-on against her lower belly.

Something hot and electric swept through her, and even if her mind didn't know what to do, her body did. Ava felt herself pushing back against him. Her spine moved like a slow whip crack, rolling, offering.

Happy let the hand at her throat slide down, fingers skimming her collar bone. Further, down between her breasts, drawing another gasp, and then pushing her back, holding her off. His head dipped low and his breath was warm against her cheek.

"You ever been with anyone?"

The low growl of his voice had her moving again, her nails biting into his chest through his shirt. "Hap-,"

"Answer me." He pushed lightly at her sternum. "Anyone? Boys from school? _Juice_?"

She wanted to look at him, make eye contact, but she rolled her head and met his profile, the edge of his jaw against her lips. "No," she managed. "No one."

**-O-**

He remembered the day up at the told Bluebird site, right before the sun went down, when Ava had lured him away from the others, into the trees to show him something. Part of him had known her ploy and he'd gone along with it anyway. He remembered her hands twisted up in the front of his shirt, the pleading in her eyes. _"You said when I was older. You promised."_

"No one," she breathed, the words brushing over his skin. It was almost a sigh, an admittance she'd been holding in and was ashamed of. He felt her fluttering pulse beneath his hand, his thumb testing the little swell of one breast. Jesus Christ…he had to know. He just had to.

"You telling me the truth?"

Hap pulled back so he could watch, read the answer in her eyes, and wasn't prepared for the sight of her. The way her head was tilted, the angle of her back arching off the wall, chest thrust forward. Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted and lids low. This was not a little girl. He couldn't stop the thrust of his hips and nearly came at the reaction it drew from her.

"That the truth?" he demanded again. He didn't recognize his own voice anymore. His libido and months' worth of pent up speculation and wanting were drowning out his conscious, making him desperate. Fucking was just about fulfilling an urge…but this…the total _wrongness _of it all...he'd never wanted inside someone so badly. And he had to know the truth. Who she'd been with.

"Yes."

He shuddered and put his mouth to her ear again because looking at her was decimating his self control. "Why?"

She gasped again, the sound almost desperate. "Because I wanted it to be you, Happy. You _know _that."

**-O-**

Ava had wondered and hoped, but she'd had no idea she could feel like this. Her hands trembled as she closed them over the one he had on her chest. The warm weight of his palm gave her goose bumps. Her nipples were taut. She circled her thumb over the back of his hand, holding him against her, willing him to look at her again.

She could hear him breathing – ragged and not at all in control. It should have frightened her. But all she could feel was the whole length of his lean body against her, the brush of his skin, the familiar leather and smoke smell…and brand new fascination of his hard cock against her stomach that left her panties wet.

"Hap."

His head turned, eyes flashing

"Happy…_please_. You promised."

His cheek twitched, jaw popping as he gritted his teeth. "Yeah. I did."

"Then why can't you -,"

His kiss was nothing like Juice's. There was no hesitant question. Gentle, but consuming. Possessive. He kissed her like she was his, not like he was afraid to get caught or worried of hurting her, but like she was his and he had every right.

She hated when he pushed back. Both of his hands went to the wall and Happy forcibly levered himself away. They were both breathing hard, chests heaving. Ava slipped a hand behind his neck, trying to coax him back down.

"This is wrong," he rasped.

"This is unfair is what it is," Ava said in a rush. Her eyes started to sting. "God…I've waited _so long_. You can't leave me like this. You can't."

She was in one of her dad's old flannel shirts and her fingers went fast and clumsy to the buttons. She managed the first two before Hap's hand stopped her. She closed her eyes. "Happy -,"

He kissed her neck, grazing her with his teeth, and another jolt of electricity surged through her. "Take me to your room," he murmured against her skin. His hand tore through the snaps in one fast move, splitting the halves of her shirt.

She jack-knifed into his touch, the feel of his rough, mechanic's hand on her skin.

"C'mon...baby."

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

Ava was enthralled with the smooth continuity of his skin; that beneath the red, the black, the green and the blue ink, his body was all one texture to her fingertips. She lay on her side, her cheek against his pec. His ribs expanded beneath her with each breath, the gentle rush the only sound. She traced his mosaic of tattoos slowly with her hand; the rhythmic swirls and strokes the only thing keeping her grounded.

She had come down very slowly. Now she was inexplicably sleepy, every muscle limp. She was sore and drifting in and out of awareness. But when she shut her eyes, she saw him above her, felt the strain of the muscles in his back under her nails…and the excitement flared all over again, making her dizzy.

Somewhere between the front hall and her bed, Happy had pulled back the reins on his self control. But he hadn't stopped. There had been something captivating about the careful way he'd treated her. He'd had her body so twisted up with need, and had yet been protecting her. Afterward, when the bright starbursts behind her eyelids had faded, when he'd rolled over and pulled her onto his chest, she'd known that there was an untapped strength inside him. He hadn't kissed her as roughly, pushed her as hard, thrust into her as deeply as he was capable.

But none of that mattered. The pain had been swift and sharp, filled her eyes with unshed tears, but when it had faded…when he had started to move…

Ava smiled. Jesus Christ, she loved him.

**-O-**

Happy had thought up hundreds of reasons to leave afterwards. As the sweat had dried and his heart rate had returned to normal, the horror over what he'd done had slowly started to sink in.

But he didn't get up. He stared at her; the flutter of her lashes low on her cheek, the hand that outlined the tats on his chest, the way her dark hair spilled all over him, messy and tangled from his hands. He always went for blonds, and he knew now, that it was because seeing her brunette tresses against his skin was intoxicating. She was almost asleep though he could feel her smile every so often. He couldn't help but be aroused by the feel of her knee brushing across his hip when she shifted under the sheet.

God, he was so fucked. Literally yes, but figuratively too. If Chibs or Jax…if anyone…shit, how had he thought this would turn out? Had he tricked himself into thinking this could be a quick, one time thing that neither of them ever thought or spoke about again?

He knew he'd see her in his mind for weeks; the lean, leggy body, the little curves that fit just right in his hands. Beneath him, the look in her eyes had been one of complete trust and adoration – nothing like the empty, glassy lust of the Crow Eaters after a fuck and a power play. Her emotion had been bright and clear…love. Shit. That's what Maggie had said: _"She's fucking in love with you!" _He'd seen it now. He knew; it was what had kept him from half of what he'd wanted to do to her.

But restraint didn't change anything. He'd done a seventeen-year-old, one he'd watched grow up, in her parents' house, in the middle of the goddamn afternoon. And he wanted to do it again.

He was so fucked.

**-O-**

Darby was, understandably so, running a little cautious these days. The last AB faction to take root in Charming had been removed forcibly after all. He'd agreed to meet only if it was somewhere public and well lit which ended them all up at Lumpy's during peak lunch hour.

Darby sat alone on his side of the booth, but half his crew was crammed into the one behind him. Tig and Opie sat across from him and Juice was leaned back against the counter, cleaning his fingernails with the end of a paperclip.

"Well, well," Darby smirked in Tig's direction. "I didn't expect to see you off your leash, Daddy busy today?"

Opie reached out and blocked Tig's lunge with a calm hand. "This is a business meet, Darby. No need to get personal."

The Nord leader tipped his head in reluctant agreement. "Fair enough. What's this about?"

"Your guy Pat Byers."

Darby frowned. "That shithead's been dead two years, he didn't do nothing to any of you guys."

"What about his son?" Opie pressed. "Keith. He ever part of your crew?"

"Nah. He wanted in pretty bad when he was a kid, but he ain't loyal. Last I heard, he got hooked up with Drake Fisher up north."

Opie glanced over to the counter to ensure that Juice was scribbling down the name. "What can you tell us about Fisher?" he asked Darby.

The Nord leader grinned. "You think I'm that stupid? I gave you the name, you boys can do your own legwork."

Opie sighed. It wasn't much, but a name was better than nothing. He nodded his thanks and then followed Tig out of the booth.

"Hey," Darby called after them.

Opie glanced over his shoulder at the smiling skinhead.

"Is it true what I been hearing about Clay?"

"Maybe. It doesn't change anything though. You still don't control shit."

**-O-**

Ava sat up a little straighter against the headboard as she watched Hap get ready to leave. She shivered, all the warmth from his body now gone, and pulled the sheet up under her arms. Her eyes never left him as he dressed. The afternoon sun sliced through the window blinds, playing light and shadow across the grooves of muscle in his torso – chest, arms, abs and the gorgeous cuts where his six-pack narrowed at his hips. She was disappointed when he pulled on his shirt.

The elation started to fade as reality sank in. Happy was going to leave; he'd touched her, loved her, _finally_. Now all she wanted was to fall asleep snuggled against him and never wake up…and he was leaving.

Dear God, they'd been naked, sweaty, skin on skin, he'd been _inside _her, her very first, the culmination of so much fantasy and longing and wondering, the most amazing loss of her innocence possible…and he was leaving.

He slipped his shoulder holster on, checked the clips on his twin .45s, and then hid them beneath his cut. Here she was naked and messy between the sheets, and Happy looked untouched. She wanted to tattoo her name across his forehead, brand him somehow. Now that she knew everything she'd been missing out on, she couldn't fathom how any of those whores down at the clubhouse kept their hands to themselves. And she wanted him to be hers. No one else's.

"You've got about an hour till your mom's off work," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots. "Shower. Change your sheets." His voice was flat, his eyes never leaving his boots.

Ava sighed as her fears were confirmed. He thought it had been a mistake. "Okay." Her voice was shot to hell and she prayed he didn't notice. "I'll clean up. No one will ever know."

He paused, and then slowly turned his heads toward her. "I didn't mean it like that."

She smiled to keep from crying. "That's your quote of the day, huh?" She dashed her hand at her eyes. Goddamnit, why was she crying? "For what it's worth…" she stared at the tent her knees made beneath the sheet ", thank you."

The bed shifted as he stood, and then his hand was on her chin, lifting her head up. Her breath caught as she stared up at his hard face, waiting for him to say something. After a long moment, Happy sighed, nostrils flaring. He kissed her, slow and hot, passed his tongue over her barely parted lips.

"You be around here tomorrow afternoon?"

The question was so quiet, his voice so strained, Ava thought she hadn't heard right. "Yeah," she said, heart jumping to life behind her ribs. "Where else would I be, I'm a delinquent, remember?"

His thumb passed over her bottom lip, pressing at a spot where he'd left the tiniest of marks with his teeth, and her whole body trembled. Hap grinned, quick and tight, and then backed away.

Ava watched him head for the door, a little dazed.

"Keep that gun handy," he called over his shoulder in parting. "You never know when you might have to shoot some fucker."

She held her laughter in until she heard his bike start up in the drive, and then she flat-out giggled like an idiot, wiping at her tears the whole time.

**-O-**

Ava was toweling her hair dry when she heard the back door open. She took a deep, anxious breath and scanned her reflection one last time. She had redressed and smelled like soap and shampoo now, but she thought her face looked flushed. The little mark on her lower lip seemed huge. She dabbed on a layer of gloss in an effort to camouflage it.

"Ava?"

"Coming," she answered. She was petrified that her mother, in all her MC savvy, would just _know _that she'd had sex. That she'd be able to read it in her face before she could even get the lie composed.

She left the towel on the counter and headed down the hall, peeking into her room one last time to ensure that no evidence remained. Her sheets were washed and dry and stretched tight over the mattress again. They smelled of bleach and not blood. She shivered as her eyes traced the bed, no longer able to look at it as just a place to sleep anymore.

Maggie was on the couch, boots already abandoned under the coffee table, stocking feet propped on top. She was shuffling through the day's mail and glanced up when Ava came in the room. Her smile was sad. "You do okay today?"

_Well, that's one way to put it. _"Yeah." She folded her arms and then put her hands on her hips when that didn't seem right. She shifted again, suddenly unable to just be casual. "I mean, except for the whole possible expulsion thing, this OSS stuff ain't so bad."

Maggie frowned and tilted her head. "Is your hair wet?"

"What?...Oh….yeah, um…I thought I'd go out tonight, hang with Caroline. Is that okay?"

Her mom stared at her for a moment, eyes flicking all over. _Shit, she knows! _"Yeah," she said at last. She returned her attention to the bills. "Will you be here for dinner?"

Ava released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Probably not. I think we're going to Nikki's."

"That's fine," Maggie dismissed. "Just try not to get home too late."

"Okay." Ava turned, glad to be away from her mother's scrutiny.

"Ava."

She froze. "Yeah?"

"What's with the beer? You try to get buzzed today?"

With horror, she remembered the Bud she'd brought Hap earlier. It must have still been on the coffee table. She put a hand over her galloping heart and didn't turn around. "Happy stopped by," she forced her voice to stay calm. "Dad sent him to check on things and I got him a beer. He wasn't here long."

The pause seemed to drag and Ava was certain Maggie knew, she had to. She was seconds from spinning around and spilling the whole story, when Maggie snorted.

"Tell him to use a coaster next time. Ruined my fucking table."

_Thank Jesus. _"Okay," she breathed, weak with relief. "I'll tell him."

**-O-**

Nikki's quit serving at 6:30, so Ava and Caroline were lucky to get their order placed. Outside at their usual patio seat, Ava realized she was inhaling her BLT and forced herself to set the sandwich down for a breather. As she reached for her Coke, Caroline caught her eye from across the table.

"Alright, girl, something's up with you. Spill."

Ava frowned. Caroline Kim was Korean, five feet nothing, and served as the fun to Ava's edge. This week, her black hair had hunks of white in it. She was, as always, dressed for a night at a club, her long nails black with little shooting stars on them. A little retro, a lot inappropriate, chic in a New York sort of way, Caroline was the most sincere, relatable girl at CHS. And she caught a lot of shit from the yuppie kids. She and Ava had become instant friends.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ava tried to brush off her friend's excitement. She worked her straw up and down, making that awful squeaking noise against the lid of her cup, and wondered if she could possibly be so obvious. Did she have _I fucked Happy _stamped on her forehead?

"Honey, that's so much bullshit," Caroline chuckled. "You're acting like a crack addict and I _know _it's got nothing to do with that school shit. What's going on with you?"

She worried the bite on her lip with her teeth, debating her options. She trusted Caroline with her secret, but there was a large part of her that wondered just how wrong her thing with Hap would seem to an outsider. Because at the end of the day, she was seventeen and he _was not_. No amount of descriptive words could paint a picture the way she intended; how he'd held her against him afterwards, the contrast of the roughness of his voice and the softness of his urging.

"I'm still waiting over here," Caroline twirled a finger through the air to indicate herself. "With bated fucking breath, I might add."

Ava pulled in a deep breath. "Have you ever done something you really wanted to…and it was _so _right, but…your folks, and hell, friends, fuck, everyone in the entire world thinks is wrong?"

Caroline lunged forward in her chair, slamming her drink down on the table. "Oh my God! Are you serious? Who was it? Shit, I need _all _the details!"

"Shhh! God, don't cause a scene."

"You started it." She was clearly delighted now. "You," she aimed a finger at Ava ", had some seriously hot sex and I," pointed to herself ", want to know about it."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, trust me, I do."

"Come on, Caro…"

"Just tell me," Caroline pleaded. "You know I'll be happy for you. You waste so much time telling guys to go fuck themselves…I'm thrilled for you, girl." Her smile twitched. "Well, unless it was Carter or one of his douche friends. Warn me if it was, 'cause I might need to stop eating."

Ava couldn't help but grin as her friend pantomimed barfing. "It wasn't any of those shitheads. He doesn't go to school with us."

She frowned. "Hmm…so that would mean…" her eyes lit up. "Damn, it wasn't that hot Puerto Rican piece of meat who rides with your dad was it? What's his name?"

"Juice," Ava chuckled. "And no."

Caroline sighed dreamily. "Man, what I wouldn't give…"

Ava kicked her lightly under the table and she snapped back to attention. "Okay, so that leaves us with…who?"

Happy's name was on the tip of her tongue and yet she just shook her head. Gossiping with her friend would just cheapen the experience, turn the forbidden wonder of it all into a secret that couldn't be taken back. The moment she said it out loud, she knew it would somehow get back to her father.

"No one can know," she said. "Not now anyway. I would be in so, so much trouble and I can't do that to him."

She didn't know what her face looked like, but her expression caused Caroline to sit up and sober a bit. "Damn. It's him, isn't it?"

"Who?"

"A year ago, at my party, truth or dare."

Ava recalled the memory with a grimace.

"Your mystery biker, the one you were _in love _with and wouldn't give us a name."

"Can we not talk about this? Please?"

Caroline's smile was startlingly close to the sad one Maggie had given her earlier. "Sure."

The sky went from orange to indigo while they finished dinner, chatting about school BS and dancing around the sex issue. It was a warm evening and it smelled like they might have more rain later in the week. Pedestrians strolled the sidewalk in couples or groups. Headlights from passing cars skimmed the café's patio.

Ava was sleepy and the more distinct pains from earlier were turning into a full-body soreness. She knew she'd hurt the next day. Her eyelids kept flagging and she was finding it harder and harder to pay attention to Caroline. And shit, she had to drive home.

"Aw fuck," Caroline muttered, sitting up from her slump against the back of the chair.

Ava realized that she was also slouching and twisted around, following her friend's line of sight. "What…?" Carter was coming down the sidewalk towards them. Three of his buddies were with him and she recognized one of them as Richie Grant. "Fuck," she repeated.

She faced forward again, going rigid as if being still would somehow hide her from the guys who were rapidly approaching. Richie loathed her, and she figured the other two weren't exactly on her fan club mailing list. She hadn't talked to Carter since the bonfire…and didn't intend to break that stretch now.

_Keep walking, keep walking, keep walking…_

"Oh man! Look at this," someone, most likely Richie, bellowed. "Gleeks Gone Wild."

Ava turned around slowly, heat rising in her cheeks.

"Be careful with that, dude," one of the other guys said. "She'll go UFC on your ass."

"C'mon, guys," Carter protested.

Ava glared at him. He looked uncomfortable, pretending to be above the insults of his friends. It was worse than dealing with bullshit to see him come to her defense.

"Fucking get lost, second string," Caroline deadpanned.

Richie made a show of frowning and moved around to the side of their table. "What? I thought prostitutes weren't allowed to talk back. Where's your pimp, I wanna file a complaint."

"Go away," Ava told him. She didn't have the energy to think up a snappy comeback. And Richie looked as if he were verging on crazy – his eyes were wide and glazed, his hair a mess, he was hopped up on something besides school spirit. She shot a nasty glance towards Carter. "Take you friend and go before he gets hurt."

Carter's face fell, but he hooked a hand on Richie's arm.

"Naw," his friend shrugged him off. He jabbed a finger at Ava. "I ain't leaving till I get what you got. Did she fuck you before she broke my girlfriend's nose, or after?"

His voice was loud and several other patrons were now staring.

"C'mon, Rich," Carter tried again. "Let's go, man."

Ava glared up at his sloppy hair and stained shirt, the dark circles under his eyes. It had to be crank. She stood, forcing him to step back. They were nearly the same height. What a joke.

"You," she said quietly ", need to get out of my face. Because if my boyfriend finds out about this, he's gonna slit your goddamn throat ear to ear."

All of the guys, even Richie, seemed to stagger at the words and the calm way they were delivered. And they were no doubt remembering Jenny Stone's bloody and busted face.

"Bitch," Richie spat as Carter finally managed to drag him off. "I ain't gonna let a whore talk to me that way!" he called over his shoulder as another friend took his other arm.

Ava stared after them as they continued down the sidewalk, remaining stone faced when Carter twisted around and mouthed a quick _sorry._

"Damn," Caroline muttered as Ava sat back down.

"I know. He's high as a fucking kite."

She shook her head. "That's not what I mean. Boyfriend? Slit his throat? Ava…"

"I was bluffing, it didn't mean anything," Ava said with a sigh. Her friend didn't look convinced. "I'm going home," she said tiredly. "I've had enough insults for one night."

**-O-**

Tig sniggered from across the pool table when Hap missed an easy shot. Happy glared up at the Sgt at Arms, daring him to say something. Here they were with a half-way decent lead on the football coach and they were shooting pool. He was itchy inside his own skin, anxious to be out in the night, looking for avenues of extortion, bashing heads. His body was relaxed from his afternoon, but his head was reeling. And Tig handing him his ass at pool wasn't helping things.

"Hey, sugar," a deep female voice purred in his ear. He'd seen her stalking him from the corner of his eye, and now she was making her move. The bottle brunette had been hanging around the clubhouse for a few months now, she'd blown him one Friday after church, but he'd had no interest in taking her to bed. He didn't do brunettes.

Her arm went around his waist and he felt her breasts press against his back. Her hand landed on his stomach and he glanced down at her thick fingers and red press-on nails. She had track marks in the web between her thumb and forefinger.

Hap shifted deftly away from her, putting them side by side. She moved her hand to his back, scratching at him with her nails. He tried and failed not to make comparisons, not to think about the feather light, teasing caresses of the girl compared to this bitch's heavy pawing.

"What's the matter?" she drawled. "You seem tense, baby." She grinned, flashing uneven teeth. "You want a massage? Full body."

Hap felt his lip curl. Staring down at this woman who'd stuffed herself into clothes that were three sizes too small and had attempted to take off twenty years with blue eye shadow, he was repulsed.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Tig called to her from across the table. "He likes 'em young."

Happy shot his brother a surprised look over the table, and regretted it when he caught the knowing glint in his eyes.

The Crow Eater huffed beside him. "I didn't hear him complaining." She nodded her brittle mass of dark hair towards Happy.

"Get lost, bitch," he told her half-heartedly.

She made a production of looking offended and adjusting her bra through her shirt before she stalked off, hips twitching. Happy sighed when she was gone and hated that Tig was still grinning at him.

"Why the fuck you in such a good mood?"

Tig shrugged innocently. "I dunno…should I be?"

Hap went to the bar and snapped his fingers at the Prospect. Tux reached for the cooler and he shook his head. "Nah, kid. Strong stuff."

"I'll take his beer," Tig said, drawing up beside him.

He served them, and then with a look at Hap's murderous expression, Tux excused himself.

Tig turned around and put his back to the bar, watching the room. "I was thinking about going down to the Elevator Room. You in?"

"Nah," Hap said automatically. The thought of the strip club was not at all appealing in his current state. He'd been watching his brothers interact with the Crow Eaters all night and had replaced them in his mind with Ava. He kept seeing her eyes, that dark liquid brown, the way her mouth had moved against his shoulder when she murmured his name. The graceful curve of her throat. The feel of her legs locked tight around his hips.

He threw back his shot and relished the burn. Then he reached across the bar for the bottle, wondering if he could get so smashed that he'd forget he'd told her he would come back the next day.

He felt more than saw Tig lean towards him as he poured his next shot. "You didn't hear this from me…" he started quietly ", but for what it's worth, I don't blame you. I'd totally hit that."

Happy flashed him a hard look, jaw clenched. Tig was looking straight at him, not at the clubhouse, and there was no mistaking the 'that' he was willing to hit.

"And, Hap? You cut yourself shaving. Put something on that shit before Daddy-o sees it."

Happy didn't ask what he meant, but after his fourth successive shot, he retreated down the hall to his room. Under the flickering bulb over his medicine cabinet mirror, he tilted his head and caught the little crescent shaped nicks along the side of his neck. He scowled at the memory of her nails digging into him…and then the one of her passing her lips over the marks.

She'd done it on purpose.

He gripped the edge of the sink until his knuckles cracked. And knew, no matter how much he chastised himself tonight, he'd be back at her doorstep tomorrow.

**TBC**

**AN: There's still plenty more Ava/Hap to come. And I promise these annoying ass football kids have a purpose….really.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I can't believe the response this story is getting. (though I hope this doesn't mean I'm going soft) Thank you guys so much! There's a smut warning for this chap and the next few after that…then there'll be a violence advisory when Happy starts acting like himself. **

Tuesday Ava did her hair and makeup, dressed in cut-offs and a long sleeve tee with a V neck that cut way down low. She sat at the kitchen table with her books and fiddled with her home work, scribbling shit answers she knew she'd have to correct later.

She couldn't stop thinking about Hap's question. _"You be around tomorrow?" _Well, it was tomorrow, and she had this simmering excitement down low in her belly. Every second or third thought would flick to Happy and his tattooed, naked body, and her pulse would accelerate. Her breath would catch for one thrilling second, remembering his kiss, his touch. She turned on the tiny TV in the kitchen for some background noise and it didn't really help.

But under her anticipation, there was a quiet worry that maybe he wouldn't come back today. What if it had been a favor to her? What if he hadn't enjoyed it? Shit, she didn't know what she was doing – skimming through her mom's paperbacks and her dad's porno mags had left her with a sappy/disgusting impression. Heat flared in her cheeks when she thought about the Crow Eaters and the bold way they rubbed on the guys, went down to their knees in front of a whole room full of people.

She had thought, in the moment, that he had been just as swept away as her. But Happy had been with a lot of women, she was neither the best nor the prettiest, and she knew that she had been a disappointment. He would have no reason to return to her.

By lunch time, she was staring blankly at the TV, her books shoved to the side, and was fully depressed.

She was startled by the sound of the key in the lock and crept to the threshold on bare feet, watching the door. When it opened, Happy stepped through the shaft of entering sunlight.

Her smile was instant and at least a hundred watts. She felt the butterflies start up again, the doubt and worry crowded out by her joy at sight of his inked arms and hard face behind his shades. His jeans were slung low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers visible above his belt buckle.

He shut the door and locked it behind him. Pulled off his shades and slipped them into his cut pocket. "Hey."

"Hey."

**-O-**

Her panties weren't anything fussy. No satin, silk, or lace. Not a thong. Just bikini cut white cotton. And for some reason, that really turned him on.

Ava lay on her stomach on her unmade bed. Her hair was loose down her back, dark against the cream of her skin. Hap could see her fingers gripping the sheets. He slipped his thumb beneath her panty line again, stroking across her little ass kept tight with jogging and the self defense training her dad put her through. She flexed her hips, pushing down into the bed and hissing something he couldn't hear. This slow, teasing pace was killing him, but he was enjoying her reactions too much.

He got up on his knees between her legs and put his hands on her hips. She lifted at the slightest urging, getting up on her own knees, her chest still on the mattress. Hap leaned low over her body, pulling her back against the front of his jeans. The feel of her ass on his cock…he wanted to fuck her, hold onto her hips so hard he left bruises and thrust into her over and over. Wanted her to beg, wanted her to scream for it.

But it was too soon for that.

"You wet?" he whispered beside her ear.

She pushed back against him, rotating her hips. "God, yes," she said on a moan. "Jesus, Hap…you're _killing _me."

That was a bit ironic, the killer being so polite in bed it was _killing _her. He debated the strain to her voice, wondering if it was an invitation to go harder, be more reckless. He thrust his hips forward and then retreated, picking up a version of the rhythm he wanted to pound inside her. Ava followed.

He flattened a hand on her belly, stopping her. He wasn't going to be able to take the dry humping too long. Hap sat back on his heels and pulled her with him, her back to his chest.

Ava's head fell back, her hair brushing his face. "No, don't stop," she panted. "I…"

He tugged the straps of her bra down her arms, too impatient to take the thing off, and pulled down its cups, taking her tits in his hands. She wasn't busty – they were just shapely handfuls – but her shoulders jumped back, chest surging forward. Her nipples were tight buds against his palms as he kneaded her breasts. Her head tipped to the side and he could feel her ragged breath on his neck.

"Happy…_shit_."

It was almost too much; the way her ass ground against his lap, how she leaned into his rough caress. And yet it still wasn't enough. "What?" he rasped in her ear. "That feel good?"

"Yeah."

He pinched her nipples and she inhaled sharply. That did it.

"Turn around and lay down."

Ava cursed when he pulled his hands away, but then she spun to face him, still her on her knees. She didn't lie back, but kissed him instead. She sucked at his bottom lip and raked her nails down his bare chest. As hot as it was, as much as he loved how bold she was getting, he also knew that things would escalate to a point that was almost violent if he didn't stay in control.

He pushed her back. "Lie down," he ordered this time.

She stretched out on the sheets and he swapped his gaze between the question in her dark eyes and her heaving chest. Her tight, rosy nipples moved up and down, up and down, her bra down around her narrow rib cage.

"Stay," he told her and stood to ditch his jeans and boxers.

She smiled when he came back to her, lifting and closing her knees obediently as he pulled her panties off her slim hips. Her hands came up and settled on his shoulders as he opened her legs again. She was wet and ready for him and her hips surged at the stroke of his hand. He loved to watch her head kick back, her eyes shut. Loved the sound of her breath catching.

Her porcelain skin was slick with sweat when he cupped the back of one thigh and lifted her leg. Young and flexible, her toes pointed skyward as he settled his weight on one arm and then drove into her with one fast thrust.

Ava cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. She was impossibly tight, so he gave her a second, buried himself to the hilt inside her and then waited, fighting the urge to pump his hips.

She was the one who moved, rolled her pelvis and initiated the friction. Hap kissed her throat, sucking lightly, resisting his impulse to leave a mark. "You ready?" he heard the strain in his voice, not sure how long he could wait.

"Fuck me," she breathed. "Do me good, Hap."

He took her harder this time, let her feel more of his weight. When her legs folded around his waist, he slid a hand beneath her ass and lifted her hips, ground her hard against him. Ava was desperate, clinging to him, her head sideways on the pillow as she sucked in shallow breaths.

Watching her face as she came, seeing the pleasure in her expression and feeling her spasms milk him dry, was too tempting.

He had to do it. It was selfish and impulsive, but she was his and he couldn't help it. His orgasm nearly crippled him, and her moan was too perfect, her body too delicious under his.

When they had both finished, Happy pulled out and rolled her over. Ava didn't protest, in fact, she tried to get up on her knees for him. He held her down with a firm hand against the small of her back, and leaned down. He bit her on the ass, hard, his teeth sinking deep into her flesh.

Ava choked on a gasp, but she didn't try to move away. She took it.

The mark was distinct, and it would bruise and linger for days, weeks maybe. He'd chosen a place where no one would see it, but he'd had to mark her. To remind her. To feel that intoxicating sense of ownership.

She rolled onto her side to face him as he lay beside her. Her eyes were wide and far-away, lips parted as she breathed throatily. "I love you," she whispered, lids lowering. "God, I love you."

He couldn't answer her, so instead he banded an arm around her little waist and pulled her to him. She settled on his chest, hands and cheek over his heart like a child.

Not like…she _was _a child.

"You're a good girl," he murmured distractedly. He left out the _my, _but that's what he was thinking.

**-O-**

"Hey, Hap."

He paused on his trip through the garage, turning to find Clay leaning back against an oil drum. The President was staring out at the parking lot, an unlit cigar between trembling fingers.

Happy knew he wouldn't ask, so he pulled his lighter out of his pocket, clicked on a flame and offered it up. Clay accepted the light, nodding his thanks. His whole hand shook as he took his first drag. Hap stepped back afterward, stowing the lighter, careful to keep the exchange discreet. Usually Tig had the honors, but the Sgt at Arms was nowhere to be seen.

"Where you been?" Clay asked. "The guys went to Pope lookin' for Drake Fisher. Thought you wanted in on that?"

"Shit…" he rubbed absently at his bare head. "Yeah. I had some errands. Time got away from me."

Clay shrugged. "It's probably a dead end anyway. Just thought you'd wanna be in the loop what with it concerning the girl and all."

"Don't make a difference. I got other shit to keep me busy."

"Yeah," he snorted. "I'm sure, _Uncle _Happy." Clay cut a sideways look at him. "You know I wanna do right by the kid, but I can't let her get the club pulled down in some bullshit beef. Chibs would shit…but, if this don't work out, you think she'll be alright?"

Happy fought the scowl that threatened. Long run? Yeah, Ava would be fine. She was a smart kid, it wasn't as if she didn't have a future ahead of her. But he needed her to get on with her life. Going to college was the only thing that might get her away from him.

He nodded. "She's tough. She'll handle it."

Clay nodded. "'Course…I assume…if Jax can't get it done _his _way, you'll handle it."

"That was the plan."

"Good." Clay returned to staring at the parking lot. "Thanks for the light."

**-O-**

Jax and Tara came over for dinner. Ava had changed into sweats and tied her hair up, once again more tired than she'd thought possible as she walked around the dining room table, laying out flatware and napkins. It was almost laughable, the contrast between her afternoon and evening. Now she was a kid again, the dutiful daughter.

Tara came in with the salad, Abel at her legs.

"You shouldn't have carried that," Ava reminded, taking the bowl before the doc could set it down.

She quirked a smile. "Thanks. I don't feel like enough of an invalid as is."

Abel put his hands on the table and made a grab for one of the salt shakers that Tara quickly diverted. He grinned, blue eyes crinkling up into slits. His ash blond hair was sticking up all over the place.

"Ava! Guess what?"

"What?" she asked with a smile, prepared for a half hour, rambling story about motorcycles or Tonka trucks. Four-year-olds could out talk political pundits.

"At school today…"

She let him talk, nodding and adding an "uh-huh" when she thought necessary, continuing to set the table.

Tara left them and returned with the rolls. And then some extra napkins.

It was a quiet evening. Jax and Chibs were in front of the tube with beers, Maggie and Tara talking in the kitchen between trips. Ava had long ago become a master of Abel conversations, never really listening but making him think she was enraptured. By the time Maggie put the pork roast on the table and announced dinner, Ava was hungry to the point of a blood sugar episode. Her "nap" had been interrupted by her mother coming home, Hap long since gone but her energy not yet returned. She hadn't eaten since breakfast.

She pulled out the chair next to her dad, not thinking twice as she sat, and then jumped back out of her chair with a little gasp when Happy's bite mark connected with the seat. The teeth marks on her ass were _sore _and she eased back down, carefully distributing her weight on her seat bones this time. When she glanced up, the entire table was staring at her.

Everyone looked curious. But Maggie…Ava gulped as she met her mother's eyes.

"You alright, baby?" she asked, something besides concern in her voice.

"Yeah," she had to pause and clear her throat, feeling Jax and Tara and her father's eyes on her. "I just…fell in the shower, busted my tail bone pretty good."

Tara frowned. "You want me to take a look? You could have fractured -,"

"No," she said quickly. "It's fine, just sore."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." But Maggie was clearly not convinced.

Ava stared at her plate as her appetite shriveled.

"Guess what?" Abel said, oblivious. And the conversation thankfully moved away from her sore ass.

**-O-**

After dinner, Tara was forced to sit with the guys and put her feet up – which didn't turn out to be too restful once Abel decided he was going to make a castle out of coffee table books. Ava found herself alone in the kitchen with her mother. She was drying off the washed dishes and stowing them wordlessly, mind moving a hundred miles an hour.

"You're handling this school thing amazingly well, ya little nerd," Maggie said casually after awhile. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom."

She sighed loudly. "You know I'm a cool mom, right? I ain't driven a mini van in my life. If something's bothering you -,"

"Nothing's bothering me. I'm fine." Maggie gave her a raised eyebrow look, refusing to hand over the next plate. "I swear. What would be wrong?"

"Honestly," her mom frowned. "I dunno. But you seem off."

"Off?"

"What? It's a real condition."

Ava found herself chuckling. "Very scientific."

"It's not those kids, is it? They bothering you? 'Cause I give you full permission to shoot those pussies if they show up at the house."

Ava snorted.

"Now see? How could I say that and _not _be a cool mom?"

She didn't answer and Maggie sighed again. "Fine. I'll leave you alone, Grumpy."

**-O-**

Late that night, when the house was dark, Ava lay awake, breathing in Happy's scent that lingered on the sheets. She didn't trust Maggie's innocent questioning after dinner. She figured her mother knew more than she was letting on.

She rolled onto her side, burying her face against the pillow. She was tired but couldn't find sleep. And as alive as she had felt under him, she felt strangely dead now, out of touch and listless. She wanted to cry and didn't understand it.

Sleeping with Hap was supposed to be amazing. And it had been – so amazing in fact, that now everything else seemed sub par. She didn't want to do school work. Didn't want to draw. She wanted his voice in her ear, his hands on her body, wanted every inch of him inside her.

She kicked through her sheets and her nipples hardened under her sleep shirt at the memory of his hands on them. She had always wanted him, but now craved him. The yearning was physical now, and full body.

On impulse, Ava pulled her phone off her nightstand and flipped it open, squinting against the brightness of the screen.

She froze with her thumb on the keypad. What was she going to do? Text him? Call him? What could she say? _I miss you. I want you. What are you doing? Hang up…no, you hang up…_

She set the phone aside and resolved to hugging her pillow, shivering in the dark and thinking about the next day.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: It would seem that pairing Hap with an underage, high school chick is the 'in' thing to do all of a sudden. I hate to think I've kicked off a sick trend or something. So I want to sort of emphasize the fact that I consider Hap and Ava a special circumstance; that they have a lot of history and their pairing is the result of much writing, thought, and inevitability. If I hadn't been setting this up throughout 3 other stories, I would never have given Happy a girl so young. I dunno, I just don't want to come across as a creeper.**

**That said...**

At ten till eight the next morning, Hap was smoking and dicking around in the garage, waiting for his shift to start. Bobby's story about running into one of his exes was just getting to the good part when Maggie leaned out of the office door.

"Hey, Hap, can I talk to you for a sec?"

He'd known this was coming. And though he'd try to lie – to protect the kid at least – he wasn't going to be ashamed of this. Or treated like some kind of sick freak. What went on in his own head was punishment enough. And Maggie, of all people, should have known this was coming. She and Chibs had always been so caught up in their own selfish bullshit…you could only force a girl on someone like him for so long. Maggie knew better.

"Yeah." He ground out his smoke and followed her into the office.

Maggie waved towards one of the extra chairs and then shut the door behind them. She sat but he didn't.

"What's up?"

She sighed as she pulled her purse up onto the desk and started rummaging through it. "I'm worried about Ava," she said. "She's not acting right."

"Look, if this is about the kid, I gotta get to work -,"

He halted when she lifted her hand. Between two fingers, she held a Trojan wrapper. Her eyes cut him to the bone, unblinking. "I found this in the trash in her bathroom yesterday afternoon."

So that was it, Mama knew. All he'd done for her, the risks he'd taken…bitch. She was going to throw his own evidence back in his face, dare him to deny it. He wasn't saying shit. He folded his arms and met her stare. Predictably, she glanced away first.

Maggie drew in a shaky breath. "That kid, the one with the crush on her…shit, I thought she hated him." She shook her head and met his eyes again. This time, Hap realized with a shock, she wasn't accusing him, she was looking for him to be pissed _with her_. As Ava's surrogate uncle, she expected him to be furious with whichever shithead was banging the girl. She didn't know it was him.

"She could hardly sit down last night, Hap," she continued. "I know I encouraged her to date -,"

He withheld a smile, remembering his teeth in her skin.

" – but I didn't think she'd sneak around like this. I just…"

She gave him a helpless look and he suddenly found the whole thing hilarious. "What am I supposed to do?" he fake glowered at her. "Kill some kid? 'Cause I can -,"

"No." She held up a hand. "No…just…I know she won't tell me. I've tried to talk to her and she's being a teenager. She trusts you, Hap, you think you could…"

"Collect intel for you?"

Maggie twitched a half smile. "I can't exactly tell her dad, can I?"

"Why're you always gettin' me to do your dirty work? Huh?"

Her smile spread. "So you'll talk to her?"

He snorted. "Yeah. If I got time."

**-O-**

Ava woke up to Rihanna screaming "Hard" in her ear and pawed through the covers for her cell. Sunlight flooded her room and she put a hand over her eyes, shielding them against the brightness.

"Yeah?" she croaked when she finally located her phone and flipped it open.

"Hey, Ava," Tara was wide awake and cheerful. "I've got the day off from the hospital and I'm bored out of my mind. Your mom thought you might need a distraction too. How about a little retail therapy?"

At the mention of her mother, Ava jerked upright in bed. After last night, this seemed a strange coincidence that Maggie wanted her out of the house. She felt this momentary flutter of panic – both at being caught, and at not being home should Happy show up. If he came to see her, she wasn't _not _going to be there. No way.

She checked the clock. 9:30.

"Where did you wanna go?" she asked hesitantly.

Tara chuckled. "Well, I'm waddling like a cow, so I thought we'd stay in town."

Ava grudgingly agreed to meet Tara in an hour, sure to force plenty of fake excitement into her voice. When she hung up, she flopped back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling for a long few minutes.

The last thing she wanted was to walk around Charming making small talk and feigning interest in clothes. She wanted to wait on the couch, breath held, watching shitty daytime TV until she heard the spare key in the lock.

_You're being stupid _she scolded herself.

Still, it was another few minutes before she climbed out of bed.

**-O-**

"Howdy," Maggie greeted her cousin without looking up from the computer.

Gemma kicked the office door shut with the heel of her boot and then took a seat across from the desk. Maggie listened for the click of the Zippo and the rush of inhaled smoke. There was no talking to Gemma if she wasn't smoking.

"So," the Queen said on an exhale. "Did you talk to him?"

"Down to business then?" Maggie gave her a speculative look. "I thought we could look at guest list for Saturday -,"

"Nope," Gemma grinned tightly. "That can wait."

She sighed, took the phone off the hook and folded her hands over the desk. It felt like she'd had some version of this conversation thousands of times before with her cousin. In this office, at this desk. Except this time, the insane girl who'd picked the wrong Son wasn't her, but her daughter. That was somehow twice as terrifying.

"Yeah," she said, meeting Gemma's eyes and not liking the little knowing smirk she found there. "I had him right here and I…I couldn't make myself say it."

"Speechless…the first time in your life. How's that?"

"I -," God, this was hard to explain. "Gem, if it was anyone else, and I mean _anyone _else but Hap, I wouldn't think twice about this."

"Think twice?" Gemma leaned forward in her chair, cigarette clenched between raised fingers. "Mags, right now, what this club's about to go through, we don't need some sick, star-crossed lover bullshit pulling us down. He's old enough to be her father…this is _rape, _sweetheart, not two kids foolin' around."

Maggie felt her chest tighten. "He loves her, Gemma. Not in a romantic way, but…" her eyes started to burn and she blinked hard. "Shit, they've just gotten confused." She hung her head. "I should have seen this coming…I knew how Ava felt all along…"

"Don't go putting this on yourself," Gemma was pissed. "He's a grown ass man and he knows better, damnit. _You _trusted _him _to look out for her, and the second she's old enough, the sick fuck's hittin' her. What, you asked him to fuck your kid? Shit, when the boys find out about this -,"

"They're not gonna find out," Maggie cut in, some of her grief sharpening to anger.

Gemma paused with her cigarette halfway to her mouth. "And why the hell not?"

"I'm going to give Happy the chance to do the right thing here. You don't know Ava like I do," she shook her head sadly. "She's _so _stubborn. If I go to her about it, if I tell Chibs…she won't ever forgive me."

"You're her mother, she doesn't have to forgive you."

Maggie was silent a moment, watching her cousin work on her smoke, knowing she was right and hating it.

"You like the thought of all this?" Gemma nearly whispered. "He goes into your house, and he takes your little girl -,"

"Stop. I don't wanna think about that," Maggie said almost desperately.

Gemma arched her brows.

"I understand, okay? I was a fucked up kid once too, and I had my own Happy back then. And I seem to remember you conveniently looking the other way when I was the one making mistakes."

"Because…" Gemma sighed and glanced away.

"Because of what, Gem?"

She inhaled slowly. "Because I knew it wouldn't last long enough for you to get really hurt." She met Maggie's eyes with a look that begged understanding. "Whatever Tig is, I get him. Hap…I got no idea what makes that man tick."

"I do," Maggie sighed. "And when this blows up, it's gonna kill her."

**-O-**

Pissed at Maggie, and if he admitted it, himself, Hap blew off work and headed to Pope looking for Fisher. Since he couldn't very well ask Ava who she was fucking – _you, don't you remember, idiot? – _he felt suddenly obliged to look after her in other ways. He couldn't talk to Oswald or smooth things with the Principal. But he could damn sure get the intel his brothers had failed to the day before. He snitched the address and the Prospect and left without telling Jax; a move that would no doubt land him in hot water later. Right now, he didn't care though.

"Keep up, Prospect," he grumbled as they skirted around the side of the barbecue joint Fisher used as a front. "I didn't bring your ass so you could slow me down."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Tux called from behind him.

Hap heard the kid stumble over a trash can and shook his head. "Idiot."

"What?"

"Get your gun out. And try to remember to take the safety off this time."

Darby's crew still dealt crank out of the diesel yard – supplying truckers within a hundred mile radius. As much as Hap hated the asshole, he had to acknowledge that he wasn't the very bottom of the food chain. Drake Fisher was small time; a wannabe AB lap dog without the connections or product to move up the ladder. He dealt a little bit of crank, some coke, mostly weed, and a handful of prescription pills out of the back of Stonehouse BBQ. From what Jax and the others had learned the day before, his crew was comprised of five or six meathead thugs and his customer base was shit.

It wouldn't take long to work him over.

With the hit or miss help of the Prospect, Hap managed to get the drop on the kitchen staff and now had Fisher alone in a back room. The two thugs standing watch hadn't survived.

"The fuck you want, asshole?" Fisher screamed. He writhed on his folding chair, the ground around him splotched with blood and maybe a few teeth. His mullet was starting to crust over, dark with blood from the wounds along his scalp. His wifebeater was crimson. But he didn't dare move, not with two guns trained on him and two DBs piled up in the corner.

"You know what I want," Happy said calmly. He stowed his gun in his shoulder holster and nodded to Tux. _Keep yours on him._

The kid shored up his grip on his Glock and nodded, face serious. He had a blood smear on one cheek.

Fisher coughed, splattering the concrete with more blood. "I told your buddies yesterday…" another cough "…shit. I told…I told 'em what I know."

"No." Hap knelt in front of the hillbilly. "You told them you don't know anything."

"Cause I don't. I swear to God, I -,"

His protests were cut off when Hap flipped his chair backwards. Fisher's head thunked hard against the floor and he went painfully still for a moment. Hap stalked around to his side, hoping he hadn't killed the little fucker before he got anything out of him.

The greasy dealer's hands were curled up into claws, his eyes fluttering.

"Stay awake," Hap toed him in the side of the head.

Fisher jerked, and then his palms slapped to the concrete as he fumbled to sit up.

"Nah." Hap let his boot rest against his throat. He didn't press, just let him feel the weight of it. "I wanna know about Byers. And," he lowered his foot a hair's breadth, watching Fisher's eyes bug slightly ", Somethin' tells me you don't want permanent brain damage."

He wheezed a protest and Hap pressed on his windpipe, feeling the fragile column of bones and skin under the sole of his boot. One good stomp, just a little more pressure…he'd done it a hundred times. A thousand.

"Byers would roll on you in a heartbeat. You give him up, I let _you _up."

He was sure for a moment that Fisher would hold his tongue, but then he slapped at his boot. "I'll tell you, I'll tell, lemme up!" he hissed.

Happy removed his boot only to crouch down over him. "Talk."

Fisher took a moment to collect himself, smearing his hands down his face, sucking in a few shallow, hitched breaths. "Byers…" his lips trembled. "He's a pusher. I can't break into the Nord market and Keith…he…he told me he had buyers. Buyers I couldn't get in contact with directly."

"Who?"

"I dunno -,"

Hap reached inside his cut and Fisher yelped. "No! No, no, no…I…_fuck. _It's his kids, man. The little rich shits he coaches."

"You're selling to high school kids?"

"It wasn't my idea, man, I swear! Please, shit, please, I need the dough. It's the only way I'll -,"

"How much product is he moving?"

"Crank mostly. Just a few grams at a time. Some E. Weed."

Hap watched his quivering face, trying to weigh his level of fear, and consequently, his honesty. If Byers was dealing to kids, they had him. He'd get canned, locked up, and he'd no longer be considered a witness to Ava's fight. If it were his call, he'd just cap the idiot and boom, no more witness. But Jax was taking point on this one. And he'd always liked to play nice.

Of course, sometimes, what Jax didn't know…And Byers wouldn't be so cocky without a supplier.

"That everything? You tellin' me the truth this time?"

Fisher nodded. "Yeah. That's all of it. I swear. Like I said, it wasn't my idea. I didn't…oh, Jesus."

Happy stood and his gun found his hand, his finger curled around the trigger. He didn't look away, blink, hesitate. He put two rounds in Fisher's forehead and then holstered his .45.

The little dealer's mouth was frozen open, gums bloody and ragged where his teeth had been knocked loose.

Happy glanced up and found Tux staring at the body, pale-faced. "C'mon, kid. Grab his feet."

**-O-**

"What do you think about this one?"

Ava watched as Tara pinned a shirt under her chin and extended the sleeves, turning side to side in the mirror and measuring the color and cut. She bit back a sigh. "I think it's fine…post-baby of course."

Tara wrinkled her nose. "I can't wait to pop this thing out."

Ava grinned and she caught herself, brows shooting up. "Whoops…that was kinda harsh, huh?"

"Just like Mom."

The doc chuckled. "That's what I was afraid of." She folded up the shirt and replaced it on the display counter. As she situated the sleeves just so, Ava could feel her sideways glance. "You've been a little quiet, Ava. You doing okay? With the school situation and everything?"

Ava wanted to scream. She and Tara had never exactly been close, and this whole shopping trip was verging on ridiculous. She had followed her from store to store, flipping half heartedly through racks of jeans, wanting nothing more than to go home and wait for Hap. That is,_ if_ he was coming. She checked her phone again, fingers itching to send him a message. Nothing she could think to say seemed sexy or cute or enticing enough.

"Hey." She glanced up and jerked to see Tara in front of her. The doc offered a half smile. "You're hating this, aren't you?"

_Busted. _"I think hate's a strong word…"

"Let me check out and we'll go," Tara said with a nod, almost as if she'd decided something.

Ava shrugged, unable to argue. She was having a miserable time and knew her face showed it. She lingered by the door, shuffling through a rack of studded belts with little interest. She glanced towards the register to check Tara's progress and saw the doc on the phone. She frowned. Everything about her morning – well, afternoon now – just didn't jive.

The feeling of uneasiness grew once they climbed into Tara's car. "Hey," the doc said as she maneuvered away from the curb and into traffic. "I gotta drop something off with Jax. Do you mind if we swing by the garage?"

"No." Ava studied her profile, unable to read anything behind the woman's shades. "What's he need?"

"Oh, you know…just a thing."

That was it. She _wasn't_ going nuts, there was a conspiracy afoot.

**-O-**

As it turned out, it actually was kind of nice to stop by the clubhouse. Maggie gave her a wave and then she and Tara hunkered down at the desk with a whole spiral notebook of what was no doubt party plans. Jax was off somewhere with Opie and her dad. Figuring she was stuck here awhile, Ava went in search of the guys. She ran into Juice halfway across the parking lot.

"And where," he put his hands on his hips and got this terribly ridiculous look on his face ", have you been, young lady? Aren't you on house arrest or something?"

"No," Ava had to smile as she fell into step beside him. "Not yet anyway."

She watched him from the corner of her eye and saw his smile slip. He ran a hand across his mohawk. "You hear anything from your school yet?" He'd tried to be casual, but she detected the worried undertone.

"My hearing isn't until my two weeks are up." He nodded. "Why? Do you know something I don't?"

Juice shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets as they continued to walk towards the clubhouse.

Ava sighed. "Hap told me you guys were looking into it. Too late to play dumb."

"Well, I've been told I do dumb pretty well -,"

"Juice."

"I'm surprised he told you," he said. "But, since you know, yeah. We went looking for someone who might be connected yesterday."

"And?" She paused and let him open the door.

"A whole lotta jack shit, that's what."

The interior of the clubhouse was soothingly dark. The smells of smoke, beer, floor polish, and Bobby's baking were like salve; covering, comforting. Her mother always said it was because it was in her blood, but something about the place just eased her.

Happy stood in front of one of the tables, talking to a seated Clay and Tig, and Ava faked a cough to cover her instantaneous smile. All three heads snapped her way but Happy was the only one whose expression changed. Like those of a cat, his eyes shifted for one beat, just a second, softened almost, then returned to normal. Her breath caught at the subtle little change in him, and she covered it with another cough.

Juice clapped her on the back. "Am I gonna have to do the Heimlich?"

"Water," she shook her head and went behind the bar to find a glass. When she was perched on a stool, a beer mug full of water, Tig leaned around Hap and glared at her.

"This ain't a day care, sweetcheeks. Why don't you go play with Mommy?"

"C'mon," Clay elbowed him. "Give the kid a break."

"Do you need me to leave?" Ava asked.

The Prez shook his head as he stood. "Nope. We're done." She didn't miss the look he gave Happy. "Let's keep this under wraps for now."

Hap nodded.

When Clay was gone, Tig turned a nasty scowl on Juice. "What the fuck did you bring her in here for? What part of 'sit-down' don't you get, dumbass?"

"Hey," Juice held up his hands. "_You _tell her no sometime."

"Alright."

Ava wanted to smile as Tig came towards her. She didn't figure he'd actually do anything to her, but if he did, she had a feeling he wouldn't get far.

As she'd predicted – or hoped rather – Hap's hand ended up on the other man's shoulder. "Bro, just a kid, remember? And her mom would kill ya."

_Just a kid. _Ava stared down into her mug, no longer amused with the situation. There was always something; an unfinished essay on her desk, a hair ruffle from Dad, the offer for a kids' menu at a restaurant…something always snuck up and reminded her she was a kid just when she was starting to feel grown up. But hearing it from Happy was hard. Intolerable almost.

She studied her fingernails and ignored him and Tig as they took seats at the bar and started chatting with Juice. It took her a moment before she realized someone was speaking to her.

"What?"

Juice was frowning at her. "What's that?"

She arched her brows, inviting a more direct question, and he took her wrist in his hand, pulling it towards him. She was confused and watched as he rolled her arm, turning the fish-belly pale underside to the bar lamp. But then she remembered the bruise, just as his thumb skimmed over it. He hadn't meant it, he hadn't hurt her, but at some point during the previous afternoon's tumble into her bed, Hap had left a calling card.

"Where'd you get this?" Juice asked, still frowning as he rubbed at the ghostly hand print.

She didn't mean to, but she flashed her eyes to Hap's for a moment in silent question. There was no sign of recognition on his face and her anxiety grew. "Leftovers from the bonfire night," she lied quickly, worrying her lip with her teeth. She grazed the fading bite mark on her lower lip and winced.

"You know," Tig drawled from across the bar. "You do kinda look like shit." She glared at him and he smiled. "You got Post Traumatic Whatever-the-fuck or some shit?"

There was an evil cast to his grin and Ava pulled her arm away. "No," she defended. "I'm just…" _shit _"…busy keeping up with homework. I'm tired."

He shook his head. "Yeah. I'll bet. It's work, and it's at home…"

He knew. Ava realized with a jolt, that Tig knew _everything. _She shifted her glance to Happy and he was still impassive. Her pulse kicked up a hard rhythm in her ears.

"Those kids aren't still giving you trouble, are they?" Juice asked, oblivious.

And because she wanted a distraction, any kind of distraction, she started talking. "Well, actually," Hap's jaw clenched ", I had a run-in with Carter and a few of his idiot friends the other night when I was out with Caroline."

"When was this?" Happy's voice was rough.

"Monday."

"Why didn't you tell somebody?"

She shrugged. "They were dicks and I told them to get lost. Nothing happened."

Juice seemed to take her answer at face value and went in search of a beer. Happy, however, continued to stare at her. She could see his jaw working, the little muscles at his temples flexing. He watched her until it became uncomfortable – not because he was looking, but because Tig was right there and loving every second of it. Ava stared back, waiting for Tig to make an inappropriate comment, or for Hap's temper to get the better of his judgment.

"Get up," he said finally, standing.

"Why?"

"Just come here." Hap backed into the section of clear floor space between the bar and the pool table and then beckoned her with a hand and a dark look. Fear and excitement coursed through her in equal parts as she wondered what he was about to do in front of two of his brothers.

"Juice," Tig slapped a hand on the bar to catch his attention. "Clay needs you in the garage."

"But-,"

"Go."

He gave her an odd look, but Juice left. And then she was alone with Happy and Tig. Feeling Tig's eyes, now downright terrified that the Sgt at Arms knew too much, she walked around the bar.

Hap leaned down and hiked up one pants leg, coming back up with a knife. He carried a bowie knife on his hip like most of the other guys, but this was just a little thing; a backup pig sticker should he ever need it. When Ava was in front of him, her breath held, he extended it handle first, still sheathed. "This somethin' like what your Old Man gave you?"

"Yeah. The bone handled number."

"You have it on you?"

"I left it at home."

He smirked. "Don't do ya much good there, sweetheart."

Already put out with the kid comment, she didn't have the patience for games. "What are we doing?"

"Take it," he waved the knife. "Got a few things to show you."

She took the knife with a sigh. "You don't think I've already been through this with Dad?"

"I know you have. But he taught you how to defend yourself in a scrape."

"Then what do _you_ plan on teaching me?"

That earned a chuckle from Tig. Ava turned and saw that he was backwards on his stool, elbows on the bar, watching them as if they were the afternoon's entertainment. "Do you need to be in here?" she asked.

He grinned. "What? Like I'm supposed to leave you _alone _with him? Like hell. I wanna watch."

"_What_? Are you -,"

"Ignore him," Happy pulled her towards him by the wrist.

When she faced him again, his eyes were…_excited_. He folded her hand tightly around the knife. "Leave it in the sheath," he instructed. "And come at me with it."

"Excuse me? I'm not 'coming at you'. I'm not gonna hurt you."

He grinned just a little. "Like you could hurt me."

Tig laughed again and Ava glanced between the knife and the killer in front of her, debating the lunacy of the whole thing. He wanted her to rush him with a knife? Yes it was sheathed, but what was he getting at? What was his game? She watched the glimmer in his eyes, that subtle thrill. Oh, what the hell.

She dove towards him, feeling very Sharks and Jets, keeping her arm back until she was near enough to smell the road dust on him. Then she jabbed her right arm forward, hand loose on the hilt, fingers resting on top of the blade like Chibs had taught her. She saw an unprotected spot under his ribs and aimed there, going for one of the soft, vulnerable organs.

She was already grinning in triumph when suddenly her wrist was levered to the side. She yelped as her stabbing arm was cranked up over her head. Hap spun her, her back to his front, one of his hands holding her knife arm, the other at her throat. Ava was stunned. She stood panting for a moment, not trying to disengage, and was suddenly reminded of being on her knees in her bed the day before. Her nipples contracted at the memory of his hands. God, his hands had been so good, going right she needed them to, making her feel…

Her head tipped to the side and she wet her lips, throat suddenly dry. He squeezed her neck lightly. "See?" he said quietly. "Just like that you'd be dead."

She shivered at the words.

The spell was broken by one of Tig's cackles. Ava glared at him and found him grinning hugely, eyes dancing at he watched. "I knew I wanted to watch. Why pay for underage porn when you can get it for free -,"

"Shut up!" Ava lunged at him, but Happy kept her in check.

"Shhh," he was in her ear ", leave him alone."

Tig sobered. "Seriously though, kid. This is important shit you ain't gonna get from Daddy. Pay attention."

**-O-**

They worked for close to thirty minutes. Hap put her through drill after drill, every scenario imaginable. He showed her where her weak spots were and how to sharpen her defenses, how to wield the knife rather than thrust blindly out of fear.

He was light on his feet, always two steps ahead, cutting through her blocks every time with seemingly no effort. At first it felt like work, but Ava found herself grinning, smirking at him and egging him on. It was like dancing – albeit violent and bloody – but the grace was there. The precision.

Tig watched, throwing in his two cents. He stepped in a time or two but Ava would freeze up and Hap eventually told him to just play ref. At moments, she would forget where they were, what they were doing. His hands got bolder, going places they didn't have to. And by the end, Ava was panting and wound up, more than a little turned out watching and feeling his killer's body in action. She knew he was still treating her like glass, protecting her, but was becoming too excited to care.

He finally quit playing and yanked her to him, seizing her hand and forcing her to drop the knife. "That's not fair!" she laughed. "I -,"

His other hand went to her ass and found the bite mark he'd left the day before. She gasped at the lick of pain, and the shock that he would grab her so boldly in front of Tig. Even if the bastard knew, there was no point in flaunting. "Hap -,"

"Tig's gone," he said in a throaty whisper against the top of her head. "And don't try to tell me you aren't completely turned on right now."

She hadn't even heard the other man leave. She shuddered. "What are you gonna do about that?"

He kneaded her ass, working the bruise in a way that nearly brought tears to her eyes but somehow felt good. She buried her face in his chest and inhaled, trying to get her sudden desperation under control. They were in the clubhouse and anyone could walk in. No matter how badly she wanted him, they should do this smart.

He took her chin in his hands and her last incoherent thought was that he looked ready to eat her alive. And then his mouth fell on hers and she quit thinking completely.

He picked her up and her legs went around him on instinct. Ava grabbed double fistfuls of his shirt and pulled herself up to meet his urgent kiss. He'd never been at her like this before, crushing her lips, taking her breath. It was almost painful, but the stroke of his tongue, that lingering taste of beer and cigarette smoke, was making her grind against him. His heart was racing under her hands. She could smell the hint of sweat on both of them from the exercise. And she couldn't think about the abuse her mouth was taking because her body wanted him. Now.

Their lips came apart with a wet sound as he set her down on one of the tables. Her ass landed hard, the bite mark burned, and she didn't care when his hands went up her thighs.

"You picked a perfect fuckin' day to wear a skirt," he growled as he pushed her denim mini up around her hips.

She felt as if someone were shooting electrical pulses through her body at the feel of his hands on her hips and thighs, his fingers toying with her panty line. She leaned back and braced her hands on the table behind her, too in love with the urgency to care about holding him or kissing him. He spread her thighs and moved between them, hands then going to his belt.

Trembling, Ava glanced down her clothed but prone body, needing nothing more than to offer him whatever he wanted to take. She watched him unzip his jeans, grew wet at the sight of him ready for her. The few seconds it took him to bite through the wrapper of a condom and roll the thing on seemed to drag. But afterward there was no question and no waiting. He didn't brush her hair aside and search her face for permission. His eyes were wild as he thumbed aside her underwear and entered her. And though she was sore, the pleasure far outweighed the pain.

He went deeper, and then deeper still, farther in than before, hitting her where she hadn't thought possible. She watched for a moment, transfixed at how his shirt had ridden up and she could watch his lower abs flex with each thrust. On fire at seeing them joined together.

But her building climax was making her dizzy, her neck weak. She let her head fall back, arms quaking as she fought to hold herself up, and took every pounding thrust he could deliver. The table scraped the floor in time with his rhythm. The wood top bit into her palms. She knew she muttered curses she couldn't hear over the rush of blood in her ears. Hap's hands were on her hips, crushing her against him as the sex raged on. And in the moment, nothing else existed.

**-O-**

It might have been his imagination, but Tig was pretty sure he could hear her through the door. Little skank. Just like her mom.

He grinned to himself and refolded the newspaper he was scanning.

"Hey, Tig?" He glanced up and saw the Prospect coming towards him.

"Get lost, kid."

"But I -,"

"Clubhouse is out of order, shithead. Now go."

Tux ambled away, pouting. Tig watched him go, shaking his head to himself. Hap owed him big time for this shit. Because when Chibs found out, things were going to get ugly.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Because I'm so psyched about all the reviews, I can't seem to keep from updating. I'm especially curious about thoughts on this chap, so you'll have to let me know. **

Maggie waited until she saw Ava duck into the clubhouse with Juice and then she rolled her chair back over behind her desk. Tara was flipping through her overly-organized little notebook and Maggie rapped a pen against her keyboard to catch the doc's attention.

"How'd she seem when you guys were out?"

Tara closed her notebook, face crimping as if she were displeased with the interruption. She sighed. "Ava was distant. I don't know if I'd call her depressed, but she's sad. Quiet. She kept yawning."

Maggie nodded and cursed inwardly. She'd figured as much, but hated that her daughter's personality was being affected in such an obvious way.

"Can I ask you what this is about, Maggie? I mean, if there's something going on with her that we should all know about…"

Maggie gave her a look that dared her to continue. Tara didn't know and she wasn't going to know. The doc may have redeemed herself during the past few years, and she may have had a ring and a bun in the oven these days, but for Maggie, the doctor's second betrayal had been worse than the original. When Jax had been so lost, when Abel was missing, Tara's insecurities and hang-ups with the club had led her to another man's bed. And while Maggie had been serving as Clay's support system, when she'd taken care of the guys, tried to act as a stand-in for Gemma, all while handling her kid and fighting the worry over Chibs' being in Ireland…Tara had fallen to pieces.

Maggie clearly recalled prying a bottle out of the doctor's hands. Covering for her with the hospital when she'd been too stumbling drunk to make it to work.

That had been a long, hard year for all of them. Negotiations with Jimmy O. had been tenuous. Happy had spent many a night on her sofa, gun on his belly, waiting for the Irish to storm the place. Maggie owed Happy everything – if not for him, she, or her daughter, or both of them would be dead. And because he kept them safe, kept _Ava _safe, she was having a terribly hard time being angry with him now.

She had known all along that Ava would never be accepting of men outside the club. She'd grown up in a world where guys drank and smoked, fucked and fought, handled disputes with violence instead of incensed letters to the neighborhood society.

Happy was not a man who established connections with women. But Ava had grown up pretty, beautiful even. There was something almost exotic and model-like about her; the paleness of her skin and the length of her legs. And she was smart; knew how the MC worked, how to behave, how to respond. She loved and trusted him and was turning into this terribly jaded and smart woman that she could see him finding very appealing all of a sudden. You couldn't push a girl off on a man and expect him to never touch.

Maggie wanted her to be happy, but she also wanted more for her, wanted her to use her brain out there in the real world, make a name for herself. She didn't want to watch her slowly turn into a shell of her former self. She could be so much more than an Old Lady.

**-O-**

Happy watched her smooth her skirt for the fifth or sixth time. She looked rumpled, her cheeks flushed. Little tendrils of dark hair turned black clung to her neck. Her shirt was falling off one shoulder, pink strap of her bra visible. He had this sudden urge, and didn't fight it, to cover her back up. He straightened her shirt with a gentle tug and her eyes snapped up to meet his, wide and a little dazed.

When he was buried inside her and she was calling his name, Happy had a very hard time convincing himself that Ava was just a girl. That he was corrupting her in a way that was traitorous and twisted.

But afterward, when she looked at him with an equal mix of adoration and doubt, it all came slamming back to him. This wasn't just some pretty little thing he'd picked up at a party. This was Ava. He'd been with her mother at the hospital when she was twenty-two; pregnant with a Scottish Prospect's baby and terrified. He'd watched her grow up. All that loyalty and time, the way she'd burrowed her little way under his skin years ago, made her off limits. And for some reason, it made him crave her. And he didn't crave any one woman for more than a night.

"What's wrong?" Ava asked, voice soft. "Did I do something -,"

"No," he interrupted quickly. God, he didn't need her thinking anything like that. "You're fine, sweetheart."

As the blush of ecstasy faded, her cheeks were creamy pale, eyes so very dark in contrast. Before – rewind to a week ago before he'd put his dick in her – he would have let her steal some soft, almost sweet gesture of reassurance from him. Something any other member of her family would give her.

He cupped her chin and passed a thumb over her lower lip, rubbing away the last of her lip gloss.

"Happy…what are we gonna do?"

He knew what she meant. What were they going to do about them and this out of control thing that was getting more desperate by the second? And she wanted to know how the rest of the world would take it. And he wanted to know how to break loose without killing her.

"You're going home with the doc and I'm going back to work," he said, letting his hand fall away.

Ava frowned and glanced away from him. "Yeah. Okay."

He let her go ahead of him, and the swish of the fringe on her suede Pocahontas boots seemed loud in the quiet. Happy waited maybe ten minutes and then left the clubhouse. Tig was spread out at one of the picnic tables, pretending to read the paper.

The Sgt at Arms was quiet, waiting until Happy was seated and shaking a smoke out of his pack before speaking. "So," his eyes never left the newspaper ", is she as good as her mom?"

Hap was mad for a fraction of a second, but then realized, tiredly, that Tig already knew and there wasn't really any animosity behind the question. Of all his brothers, Tig would take the least convincing.

"Wouldn't know." He lit up and took his first, much-needed drag.

Tig eased his paper down and made eye contact for the first time. "You mean, Maggie…you never hit that?"

"Nope. Not my type."

He thought Tig seemed almost pleased by the revelation. "Your type being, what, school girls?"

Happy didn't answer. Tig was not one to shy away from the illegal or the amoral when it came to fucking, so the fact that he seemed so interested was a tip off of sorts. He was going to keep quiet for now, but could see the shit storm coming and wouldn't bail him out when it hit. Hap didn't have to explain, and frankly, he wasn't sure he could.

**-O-**

At an impromptu church meet that night, Jax was pissed to hear that Drake Fisher and half his crew were now dead.

"How'd this happen?" he demanded, shooting a look towards Tig. "I thought we all agreed -,"

"Calm down," Clay sighed.

The VP opened his mouth as if to say something else, but caught himself. He sighed and rubbed a hand down his chin. Tapped his fingers against the table. "A'ight. What do we know?"

Clay didn't misinterpret his body language. He was, as always, easily angered and quick to point fingers, but was trying to control his responses. Act a little more presidential. "Mayans."

"No shit?"

Clay nodded down the table and Juice pulled a stack of print outs from his cut. "Pope PD pulled in two stray wetbacks from a bar down the street. They were drunk off their asses, had the murder weapon and some crank they'd lifted off Fisher." He shrugged. "Open and shut case."

Down at the end of the table, in Piney's old seat, Happy was leaned back in his chair, listening but largely unconcerned. The man had one hell of a poker face.

Jax sighed. "And we didn't get shit outta him."

"We know anything about the little shit that could help us with Ava?" Chibs asked.

Clay brought his quaking cigar to his lips, using the move as cover for the look he shot Hap. The killer scratched at his eyebrow, shook his head a fraction. _I'll handle this shit. _Clay exhaled in silent relief. The club didn't need to get tangled up with this bullshit crank trade at the high school. Things would be simpler all the way around if Happy and Tig handled it.

"No," he told Chibs. "Guess we need to talk to Oswald, huh?"

**-O-**

After the others left the chapel, Tig lingered. He was rolling an unlit cigarette between thumb and forefinger, staring at the thing like he could light it with his mind or some shit.

"What?" Clay asked once Juice had shut them in and the room was empty.

Tig started to shake his head, paused, then followed through. He sighed and rolled his shoulders. "I dunno, man."

"Well then I sure as shit don't know. Is this going somewhere, cause I got, what, three days till I ain't in this chair anymore."

"That's the problem," Tig said. He glanced up and Clay thought his face looked uncharacteristically lost. "After Saturday…Clay, man, this club's done for."

Clay sighed. The two of them had been at this before, and it usually ended with Tig storming out of the room, threatening to go Nomad. In his own mind, Clay had come to terms with the shift to come. There was nothing he could do; the steroids and pain killers weren't easing his pain anymore. He couldn't even hold a wrench out in the garage. And the sign on the wall was clear; you didn't vote if you couldn't ride.

"We've been over this," Clay said almost gently. "You're just…look, Bobby's still around. And you've got Hap -,"

"I don't think I do."

Clay frowned. "What're you talkin' about?"

"I always figured Hap would be on the right side of things. But, what with the kid and all…"

"Jesus." Clay shook his head. "You think Happy's that fuckin' stupid? _We _put that shit with the kid on him years ago, back when I shoulda put a bullet in Jimmy's goddamn head. Ava is about obligation and loyalty. Hap's loyal to the _club_, not the kid. And not Chibs. When this change happens, he's gonna do what he has to do to keep this club alive. Just like you."

Tig stared at him, eyes wide and unconvinced. "Yeah. Sure."

Clay sighed again. "Look, Jax…well, even after all that shit with his kid, he's still got these _grand fuckin' plans_. His big picture shit. But when he's here," he indicated his own chair ", when he sees what it's like, he's gonna come to you. And when he does, you gotta be there."

Tig was silent and Clay felt a stab of sympathy. The mean fucker truly didn't know how to handle everything. Unlike Jax or Chibs or Opie, this club was all he had. And watching it morph into something different was eating at him.

But he had Bobby and he had Happy, and maybe the three of them could keep the club from going the way of some weekend road warriors.

"Clay," and he knew it was coming again, that Nomad shit ", I can't be here when it falls. If Jax backs us down – shit, we're already too deep into porn. If the guns go, if other MCs find out. Shit."

"Hey, we're not turning into Leather & Lace here, alright?" He stood and put an unsteady hand on his shoulder. "SAMCRO is gonna stay SAMCRO. I'm holdin' you to that."

Tig nodded. "Yeah." His voice was flat.

Clay left him, praying his own words held true. He cast a look over his shoulder at the door and saw Tig still hunched over the table, still playing with his cigarette. In a way, it was the saddest thing he'd ever seen.

**-O-**

"Diesel or Walker?" Caroline stood in front of her dad's plasma screen, _The Fast and the Furious _in one hand, the sequel in her other.

Ava raised a single brow. "You really have to ask me that?"

She rolled her eyes. "I thought I'd try," she said, slipping _2 Fast 2 Furious _back onto the shelf and cracking open the case of the original. "I keep thinking you'll join me in my Paul Walker worship."

"He's a terrible actor."

Caroline paused, her hand on the DVD player. "So's Vin Diesel."

Ava had to smile. "Yeah, but he gets me all warm and fuzzy inside."

"You seem to have a trend going here," she said as she finished setting up the movie and joined her on the couch.

Ava frowned, tired, cranky for some reason, and not in the mood for guessing games. "What do you mean?"

Caroline started ticking off names on her fingers. "Let's see…Vin Diesel, Pitbull, fucking _Chris Daughtry_."

"So I like beef with no hair," she shrugged and stared at the TV, refusing to meet her friend's prying look. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Or, it could mean that I can use process of elimination to figure out which real life beefcake is making you walk like an eighty-year-old."

Ava shot her a scowl.

"What, you think you don't look like you've been fucked and fucked good?"

She and Caroline talked boys all the time. Families, friends, shitty childhoods…nothing, save some MC details, was off limits. And yet Ava found herself suddenly angry. What should have been a mild irritation was building into something meaner and darker. She folded her arms and watched the opening scene of the movie without seeing it.

"Ava, babe." Caroline turned sideways on the couch, pulling her stocking feet up under her. "You know I'm just messing with you, right?"

She didn't answer.

"I've never seen you like this," Caroline said quietly. "Whoever this guy is, he can't be worth it if you're this unhappy."

_Unhappy? _Yeah, she was pretty un-Happy right now. "You don't know him," she couldn't keep from snapping. Caroline shrank back when she made eye contact. "So don't tell me what he's worth because you have _no _idea."

"Ava, I didn't -,"

"I gotta go." She climbed off the sofa to keep from saying anything else. She had waited so long, spent so much time wondering and hoping…and no one could understand what he meant to her. What them being together meant. And she felt like she was suffocating.

"Ava! Are you serious? Come on!"

She didn't turn around.

**-O-**

Happy spent the occasional night at a shitty motel in the center of town. He loved the clubhouse and the camaraderie with his brothers, but sometimes he needed time to just be alone in his own head. The quiet helped his focus, sharpened him. The ground floor room on the end was paid up indefinitely. He kept some clothes there. A toothbrush. Some beer. All the guys, even Tig had a little hole tucked away somewhere that was theirs and theirs alone.

Ava didn't belong there. Her black sneakers and flawless skin and shiny hair were out of place against the general filth of the place. She'd just shown up with puffy eyes and hadn't offered an explanation. He hadn't asked because that felt like complicating things in a way that blended his role as lover and relative.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed and she was kneeling between his knees in her jeans and bra. Her mouth was light but insistent on his chest, his ribs. She pulled his nipples between her lips, flicked them with her tongue. Her kiss followed the spine of the Chinese dragon tattoo that ran from neck to navel. And though her caresses felt knowing and calculated, she kept glancing up at him through her lashes, asking, seeking approval.

One of her hands was braced against his inner thigh and it traveled upward, brushing his hard-on through his jeans. She froze and then started to retreat. "Nah." He held her wrist in place, encouraged her further.

Ava eased back on her heels and he could see the uncertainty in her face, the tight way her brows were pulled together. He thought about telling her that it was alright, that she didn't have to, but that if she did, he wouldn't force anything on her. Instead, he flattened her palm over the bulge in his jeans, working it in little circles, letting her feel the reaction she was causing. When he released her, she stayed, her thumb brushing up and back over his zipper.

"I…" she glanced up at him and wet her lips. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. He could see her ribs under her skin. "I won't be what you're used to," she said quietly. "I don't know what I'm doing." Her tone suggested shame.

"You'll do fine, baby."

Her cheeks flushed at his words. Happy had the familiar sense that this was getting too complicated. This wasn't just fun and wasn't just a fuck. The wonder and excitement in her was foreign, unexpected, and overwhelming. He didn't usually have to guide anyone through a blow job, and while that would have pissed him royally with a sweetbutt, the thought was enticing with the girl.

Happy put a hand on her head, stroked her hair and let the silky strands slide through his fingers. He could see the goose bumps break out across her chest, the peaks of her nipples visible through her bra as she leaned in closer.

Ava's lips parted and her breaths came in little bursts as she moved both hands to his fly. "You'll have to tell me," she said, giving him another of those looks ", how you want me to do it. What you like."

He twisted his wrist, tangling her hair loosely around his hand. "I will."

**-O-**

"It's rainin' again," Chibs commented from the window.

"I like it," Maggie said as she pulled down the covers on her side of the bed. "Makes for good sleeping weather."

"Sleepin'?" he turned towards her. "We get a night to ourselves and you wanna _sleep_?"

"After," she corrected with a smile. " I want to sleep after you rock my fucking world."

"Damn right." Chibs climbed in and was on top of her in a second, hands automatically finding the waistband of her shorts. He paused. "Where is Ava, by the way?"

Looking up at him, Maggie prayed he couldn't read her uncertainty. "At Caroline's."

She was glad for the kiss, for more reasons than one. But mainly, because the quiet moments with Chibs made her feel guilty. And because she wondered if he would still even want her if he knew she was keeping Ava's secret from him.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

It was dark. Happy had switched the lamp off at least an hour ago and now the street light outside bathed the window in a soft glow. Behind the sheer drape, the skidding water drops were shadows rolling down the glass. It was raining again. Second time in a week. He could hear its rush against the blacktop outside. And in the quiet of the room, he could hear Ava's deep, even breathing beside him.

She was on her side, wrapped around him, one leg slung across his hips. Her fingers twitched in her sleep, quick flutters across his stomach every so often.

Happy didn't cuddle. Ever. With anyone. But somehow that didn't feel like what he was doing now. She made a quiet sound that was almost a sigh. He was never going to be able to think about her mouth the same way.

He was tired. Tig was right; in general, he _did _like them young. They had more stamina. But he usually kicked the bitch to the curb and went to sleep afterward. He didn't lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He didn't let them curl up beside him.

_I love you…God, I love you. _She'd said that and he'd continued to fuck her.

It had gone too far. Tig knew, Chibs was goingto know. This couldn't keep happening.

It was time to break Ava's heart.

**-O-**

It was nearly eleven the next morning when Ava pulled up to the house, and thankfully, no one was home. During the drive, she couldn't stop thinking about how distant Happy had seemed. She'd awakened alone in bed, in the room too she'd realized after a quick check. When he'd returned, he had been short and distracted, fiddling with his cell and not making eye contact. She had tried to rationalize his behavior in her mind, but was still worried as she let herself in the back door.

She checked her cell on the way to her room. She had five texts from Caroline – all of them begging her to call so they could talk, assuring her that she hadn't meant any offense. And one voicemail from her mother asking for a check in when she got home.

She didn't answer any of it and hit the shower instead.

**-O-**

"I heard over the scanner that it's a goddamn nightmare up there," Maggie continued to rummage through the piles of assorted junk on her desk. "Take the wrecker and the flatbed…first crew on the scene gets dibs on repairs."

"I don't have the keys to the -," Juice started from the doorway before they came sailing his way. "Got it. Eighteen?"

She nodded. "Almost up to the Streams. Just look for Hale's stupid ass getting in the way and that'll be it."

He ducked out of the office and called for the Prospect as Maggie collapsed back into her chair. It had been a hellish morning at the garage; undelivered parts, angry customers, a blow torch incident with one of the non-biker mechanics that had involved the fucking paramedics. And now she had two dead batteries who wanted tows in town and a wreck out on the highway.

She glanced at her cell again and saw that Ava had not returned her calls or text messages. Gemma's words came back to her. _"He goes into your house, and takes your little girl…As soon as she's old enough, the sick fuck's hittin' her."_

She could imagine what that conversation was going to be like with Ava; the teary-eyed, red-faced shouting match. There would be no rationalizing, no talking any sense into her. And no matter how much Maggie might love Happy as a member of the club and her family, the thought of him with Ava was making her sicker by the hour. She kept remembering how Tig had been with her all those years ago, how she'd sworn up and down that no child of hers would be treated like that by a man.

She was a terrible, horrible mother. Someone should have called Child Services on her years ago.

Already tired and strung out from the stressful morning, she was staring through the open office door and not her computer. She saw Happy walk by, doing up the buttons on his T-M shirt, and launched herself out of the chair before she had time to gather her thoughts.

"Hap!" she followed him across the parking lot.

He turned and let her catch up to him.

"I need to talk to you."

He made a face. "If this is about Ava, I ain't got time -,"

"Oh trust me. It's about Ava. And you're gonna want to _make _time for this conversation."

**-O-**

Happy would have preferred having this little chat somewhere more private than around the side of the clubhouse by the dumpster. There was no doubt now as to whether Maggie knew. She most definitely knew. And he had a feeling this was going to be loud and might draw the attention of everyone on the block.

He couldn't argue, though, when he faced off from her. Along their walk, Maggie had gotten herself all worked up; was breathing in angry huffs, running her hands through her hair. Her eyes were wet. He hoped she didn't cry, he hated when chicks cried. Not because he felt the need to comfort them or anything, it was just messy and embarrassing.

"It's you, isn't it?" she said angrily, folding her arms. She looked older all of a sudden, old almost. And the revelation startled him a bit because it meant that he'd been looking at a goddamn teenager all week and thinking that was normal.

Happy didn't ask what she meant or try to deny anything. He nodded and felt his face harden. "Yeah. It's me."

"Goddamnit…" Maggie swiped at her eyes. She tossed him another glare and then started pacing a tight circle. "How…how in the _fuck _could you fuck my daughter? Huh? What part of that seemed like a good idea?"

He didn't have an answer, so he didn't give one. And if he thought about it, deep down, this was making him angrier than it should have. So silence was a good option.

"Do you not understand that she's _seventeen_? She's a minor, Happy! And she…" she gave him another hateful look, but he saw her lip tremble. And then she crumbled and the tears came. She stopped pacing and faced him, hugging her middle. "I know that she's pretty, and I know she adores you and you didn't have to work for it…but…she's just a little girl, Hap."

"_Not _a little girl," he corrected harshly.

Maggie's face was pained. "She's _my _little girl. And you've got all the pussy you want," she aimed a trembling finger at the clubhouse. "God." She shook her head. "Why did I somehow know this day would come?"

_Bitch _he thought. _You forced this. Had me watchin' kids. Had your _little girl _all grown up and rubbin' on people._

"I wanna know why," Maggie said. "I want you to tell me why you let this happen."

He was furious. "_Let_? You knew damn well what I was all along. _You _pushed her off on me. Don't act all fuckin' torn up about it now."

"Yeah," she seemed to rein in some of her tears. "I did know what you were. And I watched you stop being just a killer and actually care about somebody. I know you love her, Hap…"

He shied away from the word but she pressed on.

"…No. I've seen it. But this is wrong. What you're doing now -,"

"You think I don't know that? You think I wanted this to happen?"

Maggie pulled in a long, shuddering breath and dabbed at her eyes. She smoothed away the tears and makeup smudges with her fingertips. She didn't even look like she'd been crying. "Okay," she said softly. "Here's what's gonna happen." She pinned him with a look, and her voice gained strength. "I'm gonna let it all go, forget any of this ever happened. You break it off and you break it off now. Or so help me God, I'll hand you over to Chibs."

**-O-**

Right after Abel had been taken, Jax's inner-Clay had come out full force. But things had been fairly settled for close to two years now. And now that he had a wife, a healthy son, and another baby on the way, Gemma was starting to see the old Jax coming back; John Teller's son.

And she liked it.

After what had happened to her – even though her husband still loved her and her grandbaby was home – there was a part of her that hoped things would take a turn for the quieter and safer. The club was in a fragile place, like a baby lamb, standing up on wobbly legs for the first time. And she didn't want some stupid, jail-bait sexcapade of Happy's to get all the boys at each other's throats when the transfer of power was about to take place. She wasn't worried about the girl really; Ava was smarter and ballsier than her mama gave her credit. Gemma figured Hap was more strung out about this than anyone…idiot. Even their damn hit man let himself get all tangled up over pussy.

She swung her Escalade up into the drive of Chibs' and Maggie's house, pleased to see the girl's truck. Gemma knocked loudly on the back door and waited, listening to the light thump of feet across the hardwood as she came to the door.

"Oh…hi, Gemma," Ava seemed surprised to see her. Her hair was wet like she'd just taken a shower, the long ends dripping water onto her t-shirt. "I think Mom's at the shop."

"I know," Gemma smiled lightly. "I came to see you."

"Oh." She hesitated a moment, one hand on the door. Gemma recognized the fast little flicker of _shit, I'm busted _that ran across her face, but she composed herself quickly. "Yeah, okay." Ava stepped aside and let her enter.

Gemma strolled through the kitchen, heading for one of the stools pulled up to the breakfast bar. She smiled where she knew Ava couldn't see her. Blood related cousins, and there was still that little bit of resistance out of the girl, that unwillingness to trust. That was a little bit of MC background, and a whole lot of biology. Anyone who said this kid was just a kid had no idea what kind of blood was running through her veins. Gemma felt almost sorry for Happy.

"Did you want something? I've got the usual suspects and I think Dad's got a few beers left," Ava offered, coming around the counter to stand across from her.

Gemma pulled out a stool and sat. "I'll take a Diet Coke if ya got it." She pulled out her smokes. "Your dad smoke in the house?"

"Yep." Ava pulled a Diet Coke out of the fridge and slid it across the bar.

It was quiet a moment and the Queen took the opportunity to really look Ava over. She had always been a pale, thin little thing, but looked even more so now. She had prominent dark circles under her eyes. She stroked a finger across a ragged spot on her lower lip unconsciously, and Gemma figured she hadn't put the mark there herself.

"You doin' alright? You seem kinda tired, sweetheart."

She shrugged. "I'm just not sleeping well I guess. School drama."

Gemma smiled. "Your Old Man said you knocked that bitch on her ass."

A ghost of a smile tweaked her lips. "I kinda went a little nuts. But yeah, broke her nose."

"That always was Chibs' favorite move. You ever take a good look at Tigger's nose?"

Her smile widened.

Gemma leaned forward. "I don't know what sort of after-school special shit your mom told you afterwards, but that fight? That's what it's about. We don't let little bitches talk shit. We take care of our family."

"Yeah."

"You know," Gemma took a long, heavily measured pause, puffing on her cigarette. "You've gotta make a lot of sacrifices sometimes when you're associated with the club. That's gotta be hard for you – being so young."

"I don't think age is much of a factor. You grow up fast around here."

She chuckled. "All grown up, huh?"

Ava twitched, fingers rapping against the counter. Gemma knew she was hitting all the right buttons, but also knew that the girl wouldn't disrespect her blatantly.

"So, Miss Grown Up, let me get your opinion on something."

Her brows shot up.

"What do you think about your dad becoming VP?"

Ava shrugged. "He and Jax are close. He's not as trigger happy as Opie…I dunno, it makes sense I think."

Gemma made a show of nodding her agreement. She leaned over and tapped her ashes into the kitchen sink. "Club's gonna be in a shaky spot the first few months. New President in the mother charter? It'll be _real _important that everything else stays calm around here."

Ava nodded slowly, the distrust now evident in her expression.

"I'd hate," Gemma continued ", for one of the guys to get caught up in some kinda bullshit that might distract the club. Everybody needs his head on straight right about now."

The distrust turned to fear; the girl knew she'd been caught.

"And I gotta admit that I'm curious what your dad would think about one of his brothers bangin' you."

Gemma had to applaud her, because Ava didn't gasp or sputter, didn't start throwing out excuses or justifications. "You're speaking hypothetically, right? Because none of his brothers would 'bang' me."

"Of course. What, like I thought you were sleeping with…shit, Happy or somebody? That's just crazy, darlin'."

"Right. Crazy."

"Just something to think about in the future. You'll be coming of age soon and I'd hate for Chibs to go at it with one of the guys over a few good lays."

"Of course," Ava's voice was hollow, far away.

Gemma stood and slung her purse over her shoulder. She dropped her smoke in the sink, ran the tap, and leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for the Coke, babe."

Ava was still standing dumbfounded in the kitchen when Gemma let herself out.

**-O-**

Ava had to get to Happy. Gemma knew. Holy shit, Gemma knew.

She waited until she heard the Escalade fire up in the drive and then she frantically dialed his cell. She waited through the rings, muttering obscenities to herself as she paced the kitchen. She didn't leave a voice mail because that would sound ridiculous.

_Hey, Hap? Gemma knows we're screwing around. _That would go over well.

She grabbed her keys and hit the back door running.

**-O-**

Through the lens of the way-too-expensive camera he'd loaned from Juice, Happy could see everything going on down on the football field with absolute clarity. This felt like a cop-out to him; slinking around in the shadows under the bleachers with a goddamn camera instead of a gun, spying on high school kids like some kind of pervert. Well, par for the course as of late.

The fat-ass coach stood in the shade of the concession stand, red-faced and sweating, barking orders to the gym class running laps around the field. Byers looked anything but a drug pusher in his mesh shorts and white CHS tee stretched tight over his gut. He was just an out of shape, out of touch loser reliving his glory days through his students.

Still, Hap watched for nearly half an hour, until his legs fell asleep. But finally, he lucked up. One of the students – some dark-haired jock boy – took a time out to talk to his coach. They talked, laughed, Byers' face splitting with an ugly grin. And through the camera lens, Happy didn't miss the subtle trade off. The student palmed a baggie and crammed it down his shorts pocket.

He caught it all on film.

_Gotcha, asshole._

**-O-**

When he returned to the clubhouse, Happy immediately noticed Ava's truck in the lot. He swung off his bike, telling himself to relax, rationalizing that she was here to see one of her parents or drop something off for Maggie. He hoped she wasn't having a mother-daughter conversation about her choice in men…that wasn't going to be pretty when it finally happened.

He searched, but didn't see her, and was glad for it. Putting his plan into effect was going to be difficult.

The Prospect came jogging up to him halfway across the parking lot. "Happy, dude," he pushed his floppy, chestnut hair out of his eyes. "Ava's here looking for you."

He shrugged and noticed Chibs and Jax in the garage, kneeling on either side of a bike. "Whatever's wrong with her, let her Old Man handle it," he snarled.

Tux glanced over his shoulder at Chibs and shook his head. "Nah, man. She was _very _clear. She only wants to talk to you."

"Shit," he rubbed a hand down his face. "Where's Maggie?"

"I dunno. She left about ten minutes ago."

"And the kid?"

"She said she'd wait in your room."

Hap sighed, wondering how the hell he was going to stick to his guns if he had her alone in his dorm room. "Thanks, kid," he thumped the Prospect on the shoulder as he headed toward the clubhouse.

Ava was in fact waiting in his dorm room, pacing the floor and looking much like her mother had earlier. He found the similarity annoying. Her head snapped up when he entered.

"What's this about?"

He wasn't sure how much coldness he'd levered into his voice until he saw the reaction on her face. Her brows pulled tight and her mouth came open. "I tried to call you -,"

"I been busy. Spit it out, kid."

_Kid. _Not _baby_. She reeled backward as if she'd been slapped. This was going to be so, so much harder than he'd thought.

"C'mon, Ava, I'm busy. What did you need?"

"I…" she blinked hard a few times and shook her head. Pulled in a deep breath. "I thought," her voice gained an edge ", that you might be curious to know that _Gemma _knows about us."

Panic slammed into him hard, and that wasn't a familiar sensation where he was concerned. Maggie knowing was like an annoyance, the little voice of conscious, but Gemma… "The fuck?" he bristled. "Did you tell her?"

"What?" He knew she hadn't. The question was for effect. "Hell no! You know how she is, she just _knew, _Hap."

He snarled to himself and resisted breaking Juice's camera against the wall.

"What are we gonna do, Happy?"

It was the same question as the day before, only now desperate. The young, terrified tremble of her voice helped him regain control of his temper. He was going to do what he always did every time she'd asked him that question – when her mother was dueling it out with the Irish, when her dad was in Belfast, when they were up against a tree in the woods around Bluebird – he was going to make things right.

"_We're _not doin' anything. Get outta here. I got work to do."

Ava's expression was one of complete devastation. He could see the hitch in her shoulders, the shake in her hand as she brought it to her mouth. Her dark eyes were betrayed and hurt. He wanted very badly to kiss her, stroke her hair, hold her like the child she was. But staring at her, she seemed so young. It didn't matter that her skin was silk under his hands or that he loved the way she breathed right before she came, or that she looked like something out of a fashion magazine when she prowled, naked, up the bed. She was just a girl, _his _girl, and he'd gone and ruined everything.

"Get out," Happy repeated.

He could smell her shampoo as she rushed past – vanilla and mint.

**-O-**

Ava was not going to cry. She chanted as much to herself as she left the clubhouse. The sun was bright, searing across the pavement, burning her eyes as she walked towards her truck. She saw her dad coming towards her from the corner of her eye and kept walking, pulling her arms tighter around her middle. There was no way to break down and have a sobbing fit in front of Chibs without him getting suspicious.

"Whoa, darlin'. You rushin' off without tellin' me bye?" Chibs snagged her elbow and turned her towards him.

She swiped at her eyes, hoping the sunlight made a convincing excuse. "Hey, Dad…"

He frowned. "You okay?"

_Absolutely not. _"I'm fine." She forced a smile so fake it made her face hurt. "I just stopped in to have Juice look at my iPod."

Chibs frowned and took his shades off, squinting against the sun as he wiped the lenses across his shirt. "He ain't here."

"I know. I thought I'd wait till he came back."

He slipped his sunglasses back into place and stroked her cheek with a grease-spattered thumb. "Jackie-boy and me were gonna get lunch? You in?" He waggled his eyebrows. "My treat."

It was the last thing she wanted to do, but Ava found herself nodding. "Yeah. Lunch would be good."

When he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him as they walked, she fought the urge to break down into girlish tears. If he knew what she'd been up to, he wouldn't want to touch her.

**Friday Morning**

Marilyn Sharp had a stack of memos in her inbox two inches thick. She sighed as she started flipping through detention slips and notices as to who would be going on vacation when. She scanned it all with jaded, cold eyes, not caring, already thinking about what she wanted for dinner.

She didn't expect the manila envelope that she encountered halfway through. _Principal Sharp _was penciled neatly on the front and she unwound the tie with something almost like curiosity.

Inside, she found a photo that had been blown up to triple size, its edges fuzzy but the subject clear. Coach Byers was pressing a baggie into a student's hand.

Another inspection of the envelope revealed a note.

_Coach Crank just lost tenure._

"Shit," she muttered.

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: This story is a bit unorganized, but I promise you that I don't ever mention the rifle over the mantle without firing it at some point. Everything will come back around. The reviews are stupendous – just hang in there! This is short and plot-heavy, but necessary. Next chap is the party and I hope it'll be interesting enough. It'll be a few days before I update.**

Ava had the covers pulled over her head, but Maggie could see her foot twirling over the side of the bed and knew she wasn't asleep. She braced a shoulder in the door jamb and blew the steam off her coffee. "Come on, Sunshine. You're coming with me this morning."

Ava groaned and pushed the comforter off her face. Her eyes were bleary. "What?"

"I'm tired of watching you mope around. I could use a hand at the shop and I think you should come."

She frowned and Maggie hoped – even though it broke her heart – that Happy had ended things. She didn't like the thought, but she had been serious about telling Chibs. "Don't gimme that look. Get up. We need to leave in a half hour."

**-O-**

Ava couldn't stop obsessing over Happy's words the day before. The coldness in his eyes when he'd told her to _get out _haunted her. She sat, feeding documents into the shredder, with complete disinterest. Her monosyllabic answers had finally bored her mother to the point of turning on the radio and she was now being forced to listen to Billy Idol.

Part of her wanted to see Hap again, reaffirm her curiosity that he wasn't mad at her, that he just had a lot on his mind. But a larger part of her was fearful of seeing him – afraid that he might still be angry. She tried to tell herself that he was pissed about something club related. But that little voice was at it again. _He doesn't want you. He put up with it as long as he could, now he's done._

Clay stepped into the office and she was glad for the brief distraction. He was, as always now, massaging the knuckles of one hand with fingers that looked equally sore. He started talking with Maggie about profits and retained earnings and a bunch of other technical stuff she didn't care about. Ava reflected on the quick, uncomplicated way they spoke. Maggie was like that with all the guys; concise, easy, unflinching at whatever harshness came tumbling out of their biker mouths. During the Year Without Abel, as she liked to call it, Maggie had firmly cemented her place with the Charming Sons once more. These days, Ava wondered if maybe they relied on her mother more so than Gemma even.

She roused herself in time to hear Clay say ", Did you get some entertainment lined up for tomorrow night? Your man's gonna want a congratulatory lap dance."

Maggie huffed a laugh. "The only lap dance he's getting is from me. And he'd better like it, damnit."

Clay chuckled and Ava found herself staring in slight awe at her mother. She didn't fully understand how Maggie managed to keep Chibs so focused in this MC world of hookers and strippers and sweetbutts who were worse than band groupies. She had heard the infuriated whispers between Maggie and Gemma while the guys were on runs, had seen her mother's face get all pinched up every so often. Chibs slept at the clubhouse once every few months and Maggie would break dishes in the kitchen sink. But he always went crawling back to her, always had his hands on her. The highly sexualized world in which they lived seemed full of plenty of opportunities, but for the most part, Ava's father adored her mother, and Maggie expected to be treated like the Princess she was.

God knew no one could rattle Clay's cage like Gemma. And Jax was all smiles and winks with the ladies, but Tara was at the other end of his leash. The women in her family were sexy, pretty and fierce and their men had no question as to who their Old Lady was.

Ava thought about the way she'd been with Happy and wondered if maybe she'd gotten it all wrong.

**-O-**

During his four months as Prospect, Tux supposed the lesson best learned was to mind his own goddamn business. He was like one of those Geisha girls – thank you National Geographic – seen, but not heard. He was expected to be waiting with mop and bucket before the mess actually occurred. Questions were like flies; they just got everyone stirred up and swatting at him. So he did his job and he did it pretty well if he did say so. This MC business had turned out to be a more hardcore gig than he'd originally thought, but there was nothing of the potato fields and black dirt of home to go back to. A bunch of dead relatives and an uncle with a dead-eye on his shotgun weren't anything to miss.

Tux even sort of liked his new name; Aaron was a part of the old him, the grimy faced kid in patched overalls. 'Tux' may have been a dumbass Prospect, but he belonged somewhere. If people were bitching at you they probably cared just a little.

That afternoon he was cleaning and arranging things in the clubhouse; making sure the cooler was stocked and the taps were running clean, shimming the wobbly leg on that one table, getting extra chairs out of the store room, doing a sheet check on all the extra dorm rooms. Members from outside charters were coming into town for the next night's bash, and it was his job to stay clear of the guys and their business and do house work like a good little Cinderella.

But as he dumped ashtrays and dug sticky magazines out from under the sofa, he again found himself thinking that sometimes the seen-and-not-heard thing wasn't so bad. He had learned a lot about the guys through observations. He ended up "overhearing" a lot of good gossip that went on around the club, and he'd quickly realized that someone could shoot an episode of _Days of our Lives _in Charming if they didn't mind a little blood spatter every now and then.

Today, Happy seemed to be in a particularly bad mood. He hadn't even pretended to clock in at the garage and was instead watching TV. A sweetbutt, one of the regulars, was half in his lap, running manicured nails down his arm and shoulder.

Tux tried not to pay too much attention the sexual habits of any of his new brothers – even though it was hard to miss some of the shit Tig pulled. But from what he'd seen of Happy after church, he always seemed to sit back and let the women come to him. And they did, in friggin' droves. They crawled all over him, cooing nonsense in his ear, giving little lap dance teases. Aside from a blow job here and there, Happy always took the chick –or two – to his dorm. Unlike Juice who had a habit of ending up on the pool table, Hap liked his privacy.

So it wasn't unusual that this girl was fondling him and earning nothing in return, but Tux felt is strange when Hap would violently shove her away every so often. He would growl something unintelligible and fling her halfway across the couch. She would yelp and then he'd grumble something that must have eased her mind enough to come back to his lap. They'd been at this game for close to an hour, and when Happy finally knocked the bitch down onto the floor, Tux was starting to feel the need to intervene.

The blond picked herself up off the hardwood and turned a hurt look towards the bar. Tux couldn't help it. "You want a drink or somethin', darlin'?"

She looked from him to Happy like she couldn't believe he'd just overstepped his bounds like that. And Tux wondered if maybe he wasn't about to get his ass kicked.

But Happy threw a hand up from the couch. "Get her outta here, Prospect. Bitch isn't any good."

It was then that the Prospect noticed the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. "Yeah, okay," he said, shocked. He motioned the Crow Eater over – she now looked near tears – and offered her a beer. "I think it'd be better if you went outside," he told her quietly. She nodded.

When the girl was gone, Tux looked around to ensure that he was alone with the killer, and then he decided to test the anger he had detected the day before. "Hey, Hap?" he got an eyebrow lift in recognition and then Happy took another pull on the bottle.

"Um…are you okay, man? You know, with everything. You've seemed a little -,"

"If you say tense I'll cut your goddamn head off."

He swallowed and retreated a step. Okay, definitely tense. He remembered standing outside the clubhouse the day before and watching a tearful Ava come storming out. He'd heard through garage gossip that Happy went way back with Ava and her mom – like, before Ava was born back. And knew that the girl was one of a handful the guy would actually speak to for more than a minute. Hap was never outwardly upset about anything, so Tux figured if he was drunk in the middle of the afternoon, it might have to do with a crying Ava.

"I'm just worried about ya is all," he said, laying on the farm boy charm. "If there's something wrong with Ava -,"

When Happy cut him off, he was as calm and collected as ever, a pond without ripples. But something behind his words made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "You don't talk about Ava. She's none of your fucking business and you _do not _talk about her."

"Yes, sir." Tux headed for the bar, covered in goose bumps. He would keep his kindness to himself from now on – it seriously paid to be seen and not heard.

**-O-**

"Hey, man," Jax found Opie under the hood of a car out in the parking lot. "S'up?"

His friend nodded a greeting but continued to work on the Dodge's rusted battery cables. Jax had always assumed that if given a little time and space – hell, he had a new wife now in Lyla – that Opie would get some of his old self back. But the withdrawn coldness that had followed him out of prison had hardened after Donna's murder, turned into something dark and focused. He still laughed and grinned, still spoke to everyone and came to Gemma's dinners, but there was a black spot in him, a wound that would never heal up properly.

Jax had watched him turn into a warrior these past few years, a soldier. He was alert, didn't miss a thing, always watching. He was, as much as it saddened Jax to think about, turning into the perfect enforcer. One day, he would sit to his right as Sergeant at Arms. And though Jax wasn't willing to edge Tig out – the bastard was useful in his own way – everyone knew why Opie wouldn't be his VP come tomorrow.

Chibs on the other hand was the man of the eternal good mood. Cut him up, shoot him up, _blow _him up, Chibs never got sucked into his own head, not even reflectively like Jax did every so often. Chibs was simple. He was steady. He was smart, had seen a lot, was scrappy, and always had his Jackie-boy's back.

"You doin' okay?" Jax asked conversationally.

Opie started to nod, but then braced his hands on car and glanced up with a smile. "I'm _fine_," he assured, meaning more than just the rote response. "We've been over this, it's all good, bro."

Jax nodded. "Yeah."

**-O-**

The day seemed to drag. Maggie was upbeat and cheerful and singing along with the radio and Ava found herself really not liking her mother at the moment. All those concerned, maternal looks and innocent questions about whether she was too tired or hungry or unhappy about something just had her hyper-focused on the fact that she was all those things, and didn't fully understand why.

Gemma popped in and was all smug smiles and veiled looks when Maggie wasn't looking. Ava wished for a moment she wasn't her cousin and wasn't her senior so she could pop her a good one.

And Hap was nowhere to be seen. Several times she caught her hands trembling like she had DTs and she folded them together to stop the tremors. She alternated between completely apathetic to anxious. Her stomach hurt but she was hungry. She watched the mechanics through the window and searched for the color of his skin and the familiar way he walked. But he never appeared.

The only bright spot to her otherwise shitty day was the knowledge that a few of the Tacoma guys were coming into town for the party. Reps from each charter were going to be present for Jax's crowning and she was pretty sure that meant Kozik would be coming.

At five thirty, Maggie shut down the computer and started locking file cabinets.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Hmm?"

Ava turned sideways and dangled her legs over the arm of the chair, trying to look as little and cute as possible. "Do you think that maybe -,"

"No," Maggie said, glancing up for one quick, flat look.

"You don't even know what I was gonna ask," she huffed.

"You wanna stay and see Tacoma and they aren't due in till after nine. So the answer is no."

Ava studied her mother, noticing the way her eyes scurried across the desk, her frown, the aggravated way she slammed drawers. It was at the tip of her tongue to ask Maggie if she knew too, if she and Gemma had some sort of pool going on how long it would take Hap to chuck her by the wayside. Instead, she kept her voice low and neutral. "So, what, I have a curfew now?"

"No," Maggie stood and put the incomplete work orders on their designated shelf. "But you are, after all, suspended. I suddenly feel inclined to act like a parent."

_Oh, so much bullshit. _"Are you serious? Mom -,"

"I didn't say no to the party," she held up a finger in warning. "Don't push my buttons tonight though. We're gonna go have dinner with your grandmother…"

Ava groaned.

"…and pretend we're normal girls for a change. A'ight?"

She kept her protests to herself, but couldn't help but watch the clubhouse on their way to the car, desperate for just a tiny glimpse. Just one look at him.

Nothing.

**-O-**

Koz hadn't seen Happy this drunk in a long, long time. He himself got loud and stupid when he was tanked up – said a lot of shit he regretted the next day. But Hap got a little scarier, if that was possible. He kept that edge, but the alcohol took the lid off his violence, had him sneering at people and just saying the dark things that ran through his head.

Of all the people Koz had expected to find sliding off a bar stool tonight, it hadn't been Hap. He'd ridden all the way from Tacoma, anxious for his former brother's insight on the hand-off in Charming, only to end up playing nurse maid.

"You okay? You need something?" he asked loudly over the music.

Happy glared at him over the rim of his glass. "Do I fuckin' look like I need somethin'?"

"Yeah," he said honestly. "A nap."

Hap's expression was lethal. He turned around on his stool, leaned back against the bar and scanned the crowd. "I need to get laid," he said, more loudly than he ever would sober.

"So get laid." Koz was all for passing his drunk ass off on some chick, though he doubted a need for a hookup was what had him all turned around. "It might help you relax." That earned him another glare.

"Here," he sighed. "I'll help ya pick one out." Koz searched the sweetbutts, looking for something tight and blond he knew the other man would like. "How 'bout her?" he nodded to the chick leaning over the back of the Prospect's chair.

"Nah, I tried that earlier, she's shit, man."

"Okay…"

"I wanna brunette. Skinny."

Koz snapped his head around. _What? _Happy had a standing rule about brunettes…he didn't do them.

**-O-**

Everything about this bitch was just _wrong. _Her voice. Her dry, brittle hair. She had layers of caked on makeup. Her fingernails were too long. She'd kept trying to take the lead: _Let me make you feel goooood, baby…_

Happy was disgusted with her. He tightened his grip on her fake dark hair, cranked her neck back until she yelled. Part of him knew it was the whiskey, but he couldn't stop the anger that coursed through him as he fucked her. He had her on her hands and knees, not enjoying her, just using her to get himself off. She'd started with the moaning and whispering, letting him know how much she wanted him, but he'd told her in no uncertain terms to shut up, and now she only let the occasional pained sound escape.

By the time he was finished, his head was spinning…the room too. He registered the _thump _the brunette made when he shoved her off the bed. She hissed something nasty at him, indignant about him using her like that. Don't like it? Get a new career, bitch.

He couldn't remember being this drunk, not in a long time. He wondered idly how many skinny brunettes he'd have to fuck to get over this bullshit.

**-O-**

Gemma was surprised to hear the back door open a little after midnight. She was in her silk robe at the dining room table, a mug of decaf and a bevy of old photo albums spread across the dark-finished wood.

Clay came shuffling in looking a little like death warmed over, rubbing his hands. She hadn't heard him pull up because he'd driven the tow truck. He didn't ride anymore.

"Hey, baby," she stood and went to get him a mug, but he waved her off.

"Nah," he sank slowly into his usual seat at the head of the table. "I need to hit the sack."

She took him a mug anyway. "Decaf," she explained, resuming her seat.

Gemma watched him for a long moment, lit a cigarette, sipped her coffee. " I thought you'd sepnd the night with the guys."

He shook his head.

"I hate this for you, baby," she said quietly. "I really do."

Clay didn't meet her gaze. He tried and failed to straighten his hands out over the table top, and let them curl lifeless. "Tig's worried. Bobby won't say so, but I think he's worried too."

"Of course they are."

"What about you?" he glanced up for the first time. "You worried?"

She smiled and smoothed a hand over the laminated page of photos in front of her. "Not really, no." Telling him wouldn't do any good. "Jackson…" she smiled at an image of him with his Prospect cut on, one of Clay's arms slung around his shoulders. "He's grown up a lot these past few years."

"Grown up enough?"

Gemma became serious. She leaned over and placed one of her hands over one of his. "Jax doesn't know what it's like to be responsible for everything and everyone. He doesn't know what kind of pressure that brings. When he learns…and he will…he'll come to you. And you'll have to listen because you've been there."

He looked a bit taken aback and she had no way of knowing that he'd said nearly the exact thing to Tig. Clay sighed. "Why are you always right?"

"That's my job," she patted his hand and then returned to her albums.

Clay stood. "I'm goin' to bed. You comin'?"

"Yeah." She flipped another page. "Big day tomorrow."

**-O-**

Staring at the dark ceiling in her room, Ava felt this crushing weight pushing at her chest. She'd spent a whole day fretting and now her stomach was in knots. She hadn't seen Happy at all. How did they go from the night in the motel to not seeing one another at all? How did he go from telling her where to put her mouth, how to use her hands, to telling her to get out?

In her mind, she'd been skirting around a decision for hours, too afraid to make it a solid plan. But now she was positive. She couldn't feel this way – like an addict strung out, praying for a fix. Fuck Gemma. Fuck her being seventeen.

If Happy didn't want her, he was going to have to say it. She wasn't going to take the cold shoulder for an answer.

Sometime after she came to that conclusion, she drifted off, dreams plagued with images of his angry face.

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: The party chapter was too big and covered too much stuff, so I split it into two. Which means you guys get an early update: ) Thank you all for the reviews…the best pay a writer can earn. **

Saturday morning was the first that screamed of fall. The light pouring through the windows was bright, but not warm, the hardwood cool under Ava's feet as she moved around her room. Today, she had decided while brushing her teeth, was going to be different. She had been straddling the line between her two worlds for too long. Not today. Today, she was Maggie Lawson's daughter and Gemma Teller's cousin. The withdrawn, misunderstood teenager was gone.

She dressed in cut-offs and a sweatshirt, her usual sneakers. But she had a duffel open on her bed and she crammed in a second outfit. A party outfit that she'd fished from the back of her closet, something she'd bought while out with Lyla and Ellie.

Maggie was in the kitchen, shuffling through her own bag, double checking what she'd need for the day. "You coming?" she called.

"Just a sec." Ava went down to the end of the hall to her parents' room and crossed to the closet. She battled her way through the cluttered racks of hanging clothes and toed several pairs of Chibs' boxers out of the way with a grimace. God, they were slobs.

The shoes, his and hers, were a messy pile at the very back. Ava dug through the tangle, as always amused that her dad had more pairs of boots and sneakers than her mother. Maggie was wearing her favorite Durangos, which left a few pairs of heels, some flats, flip-flops, and…Ava grinned when she found what she'd been after. She put the shoes in her bag and headed out.

**-O-**

Happy woke feeling like there was a pickaxe sticking out of his skull. A shower and four aspirin did nothing to dull the ache and he sat on the end of the bed, staring at his feet for a long time. He knew he'd fucked up taking the brunette Crow Eater to his room. Saying it to Koz the way he had, so obviously acting outside his norm…that was going to send up red flags with everyone. He'd let liquor get the best of him, had him _feeling _shit.

But not tonight. Tonight was about change; a new President, new Vice President, and a new way of handling things. He was done with the kid; fucking her, looking after her, all of it. This wasn't him. He didn't get wasted and pine after a brother's daughter. He didn't _care. _

He was finished with Ava and he didn't care how cold he'd have to be to drive her away.

**-O-**

Ava spotted Koz the instant she was out of the car. He was hard to miss with that spiky blond hair, _lookin' like a douche _as Tig liked to say. The Tacoma Sgt at Arms was outside the clubhouse, leaned back against the wall with a smoke and a cup of steaming coffee.

He grinned as she approached. "Look at you, Little Bit. Not so little anymore, huh?"

She shifted her bag around so she could accept his offered one-arm hug, squeezing him tight around the waist, face pressed to his cut. "Hey, man." She wasn't sure if she had missed him this much, or if after the way Hap had been, it was nice to reach back in time and touch a piece of her childhood who wasn't pissed at her.

"Here," he pushed her back a step and then made a dramatic show of looking her up and down. "Damn," he chuckled. "I think I'd almost be willing to do you these days."

Ava slugged him in the arm. "Ha ha, jerk."

Koz got that shit eating, almost evil smile she remembered so well and ruffled her hair. "Nah. You know I'm a tit man, baby."

Ordinarily, she would have laughed. Now though, she wasn't too amused.

"Lighten up," he pushed the tip of her nose like a button. "You know I love ya."

"Koz, quit corrupting my child," Maggie called as she walked past them and ducked into the clubhouse. She didn't even spare him a look, just threw up a hand.

"Moms," he rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' killjoys."

Ava shook her head, smiling even though she didn't want to. With the exception of Tig, no one could stay mad at the big asshole for too long.

He took a drag on his cigarette and shot a routine glance around the parking lot. With his pretty boy face and goof personality, it was easy to forget that he was an enforcer. Seeing him like this reminded her that he was always watching, and was more astute about the little details than he pretended to be. So when he glanced down at her with his hard, Sgt at Arms face on, Ava knew she wouldn't be able to wiggle her way out of whatever he was about to ask.

"Dude, what the _hell _is up with your boy?"

Her pulse quickened involuntarily. "What boy?"

He rolled his eyes – it was much more annoying when directed at her – and then gave her the stare-down again. "Hap. He was all kinds of fucked up last night. You know anything about that?"

"No," she said, only half lying. She had known he was angry about something, but she hadn't seen him 'fucked up'.

Koz narrowed his eyes. "Don't believe you, not for a second."

"Well…" Ava was starting to feel like she was being interrogated. She didn't know what she'd do if Koz somehow guessed what had been going on. "Jesus, what do you want me to say? I'm not his mom. Or his Old Lady. I don't know _everything _about Hap."

He gave her one last look, then shrugged. "Whatever. Probably just club shit."

"Yeah."

"C'mon," he nodded towards the door. "Let's go watch your mom yell at people."

**-O-**

Once again, Ava found herself staring down the barrel of a long day. Her mother, Gemma, Tara, Lyla, the Crow Eaters…every female available spent the day running errands and setting things up. Church was going to be held at five and that was when the big swap would occur; behind the closed chapel doors.

But instead of enjoying the slow simmer of excitement that was travelling through the clubhouse like a controlled fire, she found herself staring into space for long stretches, just zoning out. More than a few times she questioned the wisdom of being here at all.

But then she'd catch Gemma bitching out one of the sweetbutts for spilling a beer and she'd get a new little surge of confidence. She could do this, damnit.

Happy didn't appear once throughout the day, not even when she made a Lumpy's run and all the guys took a lunch break. She made a pass at friendly with the Winston kids and watched Abel for a bit, traded jabs with Koz and then consequently suffered murderous looks from Tig who called her a traitor under his breath. But still no Hap.

At ten till five it was if someone had flicked a switch and turned on every Son's homing beacon. They snuffed out smokes, stood, worked kinks from their backs. Cell phones were dropped in the cigar box and the dregs of beers were chugged. One by one they filed into the chapel. The women paused to watch, seemingly enthralled. And then Hap materialized at the mouth of the hallway, blank-faced and dark-eyed.

Ava's chest tightened. She almost ran, grabbed her shit and left. His eyes skipped over the room, landing on her only briefly before he slipped through the double doors. His complete and utter indifference, his lack of recognition was worse than the anger.

Still, once he was out of sight, she shook herself loose, stood, and headed up to Jax's old apartment to get ready.

**-O-**

The silence stretched, the only sounds the gentle rushes of expelled smoke. Clay took every painful, deliberate, slow motion necessary to light his cigar, because his last time in this chair, he wasn't going to ask someone for a light, goddamnit. He took that first drag, let the smoke burn in his lungs, then blew it out in an easy stream. Every face around the table was turned towards him, eyes focused and unblinking.

Tig's leg was shaking under the table, his wallet chain jangling. Opie scratched absently at his beard. The Sons from outside charters were propped against the walls, hands folded neatly in front of them.

_So this is it _he thought grimly. _All this time…all this blood…and it's come to this. _

"I wanna start," Clay said, noticing the abnormal amount of gravel in his voice ", by thanking you; all of you. Our last President," he glanced at Jax ", well, he wasn't so lucky as to step down."

There were nods all around. Jax's eyes looked shiny.

He took another deep breath. _Here we go. _"This club…"

**-O-**

Ava slicked her fingers through her hair one last time, watching the dark strands settle over her shoulders. Her top was white with a deep V neck, sleeveless. Little darts pulled it snug to her waist. She had on a pair of poured-on skinny jeans and a rhinestone studded belt that was straight out of _Urban Cowboy_. Her mom's black ankle boots had skinny stiletto heels that she knew would give her stability issues – but they were worth the risk. Very grown up. Not at all girlish.

She touched her forehead, skimmed the finger down to her temple where her eyeliner was flared just a tad in the corner. She thought she didn't look like herself and that was a good thing. She hoped, that later on, she could keep from acting like herself.

With one last visual sweep, and the first of many deep breaths, she shut off the lights and went downstairs.

**-O-**

He gritted his teeth and called upon every ounce of self control, but Clay managed to cut the patch off his cut without wincing in pain. He set the knife on the table afterward and smoothed a trembling thumb over the little slip of fabric that had designated him as President for so long. It was just a tiny thing, just one word stitched with blue ink.

But it was everything.

"Thanks, bro," Jax said quietly when he laid it in his stepson's hand. The former VP handed his own patch across the table to Chibs.

Juice reached into his cut and pulled out thread and needle and set them in the middle of the table. Only once they were sewn on would it become official.

Clay watched the tension across Jax's brow as he worked the needle through the leather and had the strangest sensation of floating. Like he'd finally shoved away. All he could do was watch. And maybe, if he thought about it, that was okay.

**-O-**

Ava sipped her drink and watched the crowd. The clubhouse was alive with people, the congratulatory back slaps as loud as gunshots, whoops and hollers heard over the pounding music. The party was at its midway point. The grill was working outside and the smell of cooked meat wafted in through the open door. The sweetbutts were still acting like waitresses and hadn't gotten pulled into anyone's lap yet. Kids and Old Ladies were still around.

She was in a folding chair, sitting in a little cluster with Tara and Ellie Winston. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Ellie was asking Tara, sitting sideways in her chair.

Tara passed a hand over her round belly. "It's a boy," she said with a small smile, one Ava knew to be just a tad false. The doc had been hoping for a little girl – a child not destined to wear the Reaper.

Ellie grinned, flashing her new full set of braces. She had pink rubber bands on them. Ava rested her head on a raised arm and reflected on the physical change in the eldest Winston kid. She was thirteen now; had shot up and lost that chubby look, was now all lanky and awkward like Ava herself had been at that age. God, what was that, just _four _years ago?

She faced the crowd again, not wanting to dwell on her youth, and found her dad coming towards her. His smile was wide, scars and dimples alike prominent. Ava couldn't help but smile back when he pulled her up into a hug.

"Congrats, Daddy," she said as he squeezed the life out of her. "You deserve it."

"You think?" he asked, still beaming as he pulled back. He slapped the new VP patch on his cut.

She passed her fingertips over the patch briefly and nodded. "Yep. It fits."

"Well you know, I tried it on first. Didn't wanna have to return the shit."

Ava rolled her eyes. "Really, Dad?"

He knocked her on the arm. "Really. Hey, what're you drinkin'?"

"Coke," she assured, lifting her plastic cup. "I'm being good."

He pulled the drink out of her hand, downed it in one gulp, and then tipped the rest of his beer into the empty cup. "Live a little, sweetheart," he said with a wink. "Your da only becomes VP once. And," he lowered his voice ", I plan on gettin' your mum too fucked up to drive home. So no worries."

"I'm pretending I didn't hear that."

**-O-**

An hour later, most of the underage kids and their mothers were gone. Maggie and Gemma were at the bar, laughing too loudly to be sober, and Ava was in an arm chair, unnoticed in the shadows. She had, for the first time that night, a perfect view of Happy over on one of the sofas.

He was talking with Juice and a guy who she thought was from Utah, but he was deep into the Jack. In the dim light, his brows cast shadows down over his cheeks. He looked sinister. Predatory. Able to study him unnoticed from a distance, Ava had this sudden moment of detachment, as if she were seeing him the way some random passer-by on the street would. He was a hard man, frightening. The sleeve tats on his arms pulled and twisted over muscle and bone, portraits come to life with smooth, deadly force.

But it wasn't going to change anything. She wasn't going to stop wanting him. Her feelings for Hap had become a part of her, like a craving for chocolate or an unconscious way of brushing her hair back – it just _was_. He couldn't understand that, but it didn't change her plan.

"Well, don't you look pretty."

She glanced over and saw Kozik settling on the arm of her chair, cheesy grin plastered on his face.

"Thanks," she drawled, extending and flexing a foot to show off the boots. The beer had her feeling a little warm and a little goofy.

"Why, what with looking so dressed to kill and all, are you over here hiding in the corner?"

"I'm not hiding."

He arched a pale brow. "Are ya sure? 'Cause I'm thinking your Old Man would shit if he saw you dressed like that."

She snorted an unnecessary laugh. "He already saw me. And he _did not _shit."

His grin widened. "And I think you're drunk too."

"Tipsy," she conceded with another sip of her drink. "And that was actually Dad's idea."

"See? Not so little." She felt his hand on her shoulder as he leaned in close. "But seriously, Tig won't gimme the dirt when I ask. What in God's name have you done to Hap?"

Her head snapped around and she met his light eyes with a sudden lump in her throat. They studied one another a moment, Ava wondering furiously if he could know too. Nothing about Koz spoke of intuition…but…she remembered that change in him earlier, out in the parking lot, and felt a shudder run through her.

His face was hard when he spoke. "I always knew it was coming, sweetheart. I just didn't think it would wreck him so bad."

She stared at him helplessly as he squeezed her shoulder and then moved away. "Oh," he added as he headed off ", don't tell Tigger. He'd have a field day with this shit."

She watched him slip through the crowd, gripping the arms of the chair hard. When she glanced back at Happy, the word _wreck _flashed behind her eyes.

Hap turned his head and their gazes met briefly. There was something there, something dark, angry, and so out of control and _not _Happy that she pulled an arm across her middle out of reaction. She wasn't looking at the man she'd known as a young girl, not even the man she'd known a week ago. This was just the animal, something feral and undomesticated.

The moment was just that, a moment, and then Happy was looking across the room. Ava though, kept her eyes riveted, even when the blond Crow Eater with the big rack joined him. Even when she hooked a leg over his knee and put a hand on his chest.

Ava knew what she felt through his shirt, that solid padding of lean muscle, the hard chords of his legs. And when he smiled down at the woman, she recognized not what the Crow Eater wanted to see, but what was actually behind the expression. That flat, shark stare of his. He could grin all he wanted, but the darkness was still there.

The blond leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his neck. Ava watched it unfold like a train wreck, unable to look away as the woman ran her hand down his stomach, stroked his thigh.

But the reaction didn't become chemical for her until Hap met her gaze again. It was so deliberate on his part the way he found her eyes in the dark and smoky room. He didn't smile, didn't blink, but the message was clear. _You're just a kid and I don't want you. Learn your place, little girl._

Happy stood a moment later and pulled the blond after him, the two of them headed towards the back hall. And, she realized, his room.

Ava waited, counted to fifty, and then slowly set her beer down on the ground.

**-O-**

Happy wouldn't have cared which girl it was – what she looked like, what color her hair was. This one was blond with big tits and a slow, sugary smile that was all _come here, Daddy. _She would do.

The sweetbutt knew her role. When they hit his room, she didn't say anything, just strolled ahead of him, stretching one arm over her head, limbering up. The glance she skirted from the corner of her eye was only half excited, clouded with years of misuse and a lack of expectation. She was here for a little fun, a little shelter, some protection…she most certainly didn't _love _him. And that was a very good thing.

Hap got situated in the wooden chair in one corner of his dorm and gave her a nod. The blond came towards him, hips rolling, denim skirt riding low. She was built, he'd give her that. She hit her knees like a pro, hands going boldly up the insides of his thighs.

She shot him an appraising look, but said nothing. She knew the routine. There was something mechanical about it all; neither of them flushed or reckless. Her hands were firm and knew just how to tease him as she went for his fly. She leaned forward and pressed her breasts together, enhancing her cleavage.

She paused when his door opened, and Happy debated pushing her head down, telling her to ignore the interruption. But when he saw Ava in the doorway, his curiosity far outweighed any concern for this bitch.

The girl that stalked into the room, eyes blazing, was some odd composite of her mother and Gemma, and not at all the trembling thing he'd ordered out of his room two days before. She didn't yell, didn't scream…but didn't cry either. She didn't so much as flinch at the sight before her. Her legs looked miles long, her gait something off a catwalk.

The sweetbutt sat back on her heels, confused. "Did you want a three-way? 'Cause I'm not gonna do that shit with a kid."

Ava came closer and Happy sat still, amused, a little angry, and a little turned on. This could go any way, but somehow he had a feeling his girl had thought this out. The light in her eyes was calculated, not boiling mad. It reminded him of…well, _him. _

"Get out," she said quietly, voice as clean and sharp-edged as a knife.

The Crow Eater – the stupid slut – chuckled. "Oh, honey. Did you get turned around? You need to go back to the party."

Ava edged in closer, leaned down, put one hand on his knee, and lined her face up with the blond's. "Oh, _honey. _Did you forget who you're talking to?"

The Crow Eater stuttered, caught off guard by the girl's tone. "Um…I think -,"

"I don't think, I _know_ that you need to leave, bitch. Because if you don't stop fucking _touching _him, I'm gonna break that pretty little nose."

It wasn't so much the words, but the way she said them, that predatory tilt to her head. She'd gone insane in that quiet, understated way of TV serial killers. Hap had seen women bicker over him before, but this…was beautiful.

Ava reached forward and touched the tip of the older girl's nose, just a light flicker. "I told you to _get out_."

"Hap?" the sweetbutt looked to him for help.

He couldn't help it; he smiled.

"You've lost your goddamn mind," she muttered, getting to her feet. "Both of you." She spared a nasty look at Ava. "Fucking kid."

Ava watched her go, shoulders square, hands not balled into fists, but relaxed. When the door had slammed shut and she turned to him, the fight had bled out of her and she was herself again. Her eyes went big and liquid brown, her face paled. She reached a hand towards him. "Hap-,"

He snatched her down to his lap, holding her at an odd, sideways angle. Her ear was in line with his mouth. "What the fuck was that?" he hissed at her. "Where in the fuck do you get off?"

He was angry, furious that he'd let it go so far that she'd come storming in here like his Old Lady, all ready to lay a bitch out like her mother. He'd been too fascinated to stop her, but that didn't change his regret. Stupid little girl, thinking they were a _them. _Thinking this could go somewhere.

Ava twisted in his arms so she faced him. She braced a hand on his chest. "Why…" she squeezed her eyes shut. "Why don't you want me?" she sounded strangled.

He had to do it. He hated himself for it, but his self-control was frayed so thin, if he gave her so much as an ounce of hope… "Because you're just a girl and I need more than that."

She looked near tears, but her voice was strong. "I can be more than that. Whatever…whatever you were gonna do to her…do it to me. Be with _me_."

The hand that held her wrist started to shake. "You -,"

"I saw," she said softly, leaning forward. Her dark hair fell around his face, sealing them in together. "I saw your eyes. When I came in…it was different than with her…when you looked at me…you _wanted _me to send her away."

In his mind's eye, he saw them, on the floor, knew exactly how it would go down if he let himself go now. The whiskey, her goddamned shoes, that tightness in her voice when she'd told the sweetbutt to get out…he was so wound up he might very well kill her. That unwavering trust of hers would be her downfall.

And if he wanted her to run screaming, he could do that. And get a little of what he wanted at the same time.

Happy tangled a fist in her hair and kissed her hard. And didn't let up.

**TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: I have determined that I am a fanfic whore and can't keep from updating. But I have Father's Day stuff planned for my dad and work stuff tomorrow, so y'all won't see an update till Monday. So, I decided not to leave everyone wondering until then. I've never gotten this many reviews, ever, and I want to keep everyone 'happy'. So even though I'm not at all a smutty writer, I hope y'all like.**

Ava couldn't breathe. The wood floor was hard, digging into the sharp points of her knees and the edge of her jaw. Her shoulders burned at this strained angle above her head. Her damp palms clapped against the floor for purchase. Everything hurt and her chest couldn't expand against the hardwood, but she couldn't move; Hap's weight above her and around her pushing her down, one rough hand on the back of her neck holding her position.

And none of that compared to the force of him buried deep inside her, pounding a crazed rhythm. She pulled in ragged gulps of air, straining to find the release she knew would be shattering. Even though she hurt, even though she was almost frightened, she didn't want it to stop.

His thrusts became faster, choppy, and she knew he was getting close. She tried to move back, lean into him, and his hand around her throat stopped her. Her pulse was roaring in her ears, her chest tight. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't move and her orgasm was coming; closer and closer still…

And then with a growl, Happy pulled out of her.

"No," she gasped. "Shit, no…"

He rolled her over and the room spun as Ava landed on her back. In the dim glow of his bedside lamp, she saw Happy braced above her on his hands. His face was not wild as his pace would suggest, but hard as stone, cold. His jaw was clenched, cheeks stretched tight over bone. She had a sense of being helpless, trapped under him, unable to do anything but quiver.

With the innate grace of an animal, Hap leaned down and brushed her lips lightly with his own. "You taste like beer," he said quietly. His breath smelled like Jack Daniels.

Ava tensed when she met his eyes. She nodded slowly.

He kissed her again, harder, pulling at her bottom lip with his teeth. "You drunk?"

She tilted her head as he kissed her throat, giving him better access. "No." She didn't recognize her own breathy voice. She could feel his cock against her thigh and wanted to scream at him for waiting, dragging this out into some kind of slow torture.

He moved his lips to her ear. "Me neither."

**-O-**

Koz wasn't sure how, but he'd ended up at the bar with Tig, both of them waiting on fresh beers. He gave the dark-haired asshole a snide, sideways look. "You okay, Tiggy? Or do you need a shoulder to cry on?"

"Blow me," Tig responded lightly. He accepted the Budweiser the sweetbutt handed him, but didn't move away just yet. He had one eye on the crowd, one on Koz, the sick curiosity that was his trademark hard to hide. "You gettin' friendly with Chibs' kid?" he finally asked.

Despite past history, Koz couldn't help but chuckle. "I ain't the one Dad needs to worry about."

They shared a fast look – a sort of Sgt at Arms communication without words – and a whole load of questions were answered.

_I know, do you?_

_Hell yes. I saw that shit coming a mile away._

_Poor bastard._

A Crow Eater came to the bar and climbed onto a stool, nursing a pissed expression with little angry sniffs and dabs at her eyes.

"What's wrong, hon?" the girl behind the bar asked, and Koz found himself stupidly paying attention to their conversation.

Blondie rolled her eyes dramatically. "I was with Hap, right?"

The other girl nodded.

"Well, that stupid _kid _came in, all 'get off my man' and shit. Fucking psycho."

"Which kid?" the redhead frowned. "I've heard he likes 'em not-quite-legal -,"

The blond leaned toward her friend over the bar, dropping her voice to a hiss. "The goddamn _VP's _kid."

"With Happy?'

Koz shared a look over her head with Tig. The other man shrugged. "Hey, bitch," Koz tapped her on the shoulder. "Keep your goddamn voice down."

She gave him an evil look before she stalked off. He shook his head, took a swig, and promptly erased the whole exchange from his short term memory.

**-O-**

Happy was sitting on the edge of his bed, Ava straddling his lap. Her boots and jeans were gone, but she was still in her panties and white top. Hap was fully clothed.

He kissed her like it was a sport; thoroughly, methodically. And each time she got excited, whenever she tried to grind against his lap, he would break the seal of their lips and pull back from her. He would look at her then, study her. One arm was banded around her waist and the other brushed her hair off her face, found the pulse point on her throat, rubbed rough circles on the inside of her thigh. It was like drowning very slowly.

Happy put a finger in the hollow at the base of her throat and drew it downward. Ava heard her breath hitch as he kept going and hooked it in the V of her shirt, right between her breasts, flirting with the satin that bridged the cups of her bra.

"You think you're your mom or somethin'?" he asked, voice rough but not cruel. The violent spell seemed to have passed. After he'd rolled her over and entered her again, they'd both come and he'd been quiet since.

"Why?" she felt thoroughly used and bold now. Whatever this game they were playing, he wasn't really going to hurt her. "Would you like that?"

"Nah." He slipped all his fingers into her shirt, brushing over the top of one breast. "I don't really like blonds."

Ava wondered if she should dare to hope. She leaned into his caress, becoming almost anxious when he used it against her and kept her from kissing him. "Why do always go after them then?"

His hand stilled and his head tilted, eyes impossibly dark. "They take my mind off shit."

She couldn't help it, she squirmed. "Hap, what are _you doing_?"

"Waitin' till you can't stand it."

**-O-**

Hap withdrew his hand and kissed her again, hard just at the soft, pained sound she made before their lips met. She was so hungry, even after what he'd already put her through. The girl was smart, a fast learner. Crow Eaters could spend twenty years in the club and not learn how to comply the way this kid had. He felt her hands balled up in his shirt, loved the little tang of blood he tasted on her lip.

The music thumped through the thin walls of his room. The drone of voices was loud. He wasn't a careless man, so he didn't know why he absolutely did not care if someone, anyone walked in and found her grinding on his lap. Taking her to the edge of desperation over and over, watching the building desire in the flush of her cheeks, was driving him slowly insane. He knew he'd been rough and he knew she'd be sore, but he had to know if she'd tell him no.

"Take your shirt off," he told her when he broke the kiss.

Her blush deepened, though not from shame as her hands found the hem of the white cotton blouse. She arched her back as she lifted it over her head, her tits in his face. He palmed the white satin and she murmured a curse as her hands settled on his shoulders. Everywhere he touched her earned him a gasp or a moan. It was still so fresh for her, so exciting.

And he'd always heard Maggie was a bit of a nympho, so like mother like daughter he guessed.

But that was where the similarities ended for him. Ava was unlike anyone else. And while he'd been so sure he'd tear her to pieces, once again, he was just making the situation more difficult. He couldn't stop touching her, teasing her. He was addicted. And fuck him, but he didn't care who knew anymore.

"Lie down and take your panties off."

Her eyes flashed.

He really, really didn't care.

**-O-**

"S'up, bro?" Jax greeted as Chibs joined him on the sofa.

The Scotsman thought his new Prez was doing a decent job of hiding his stress. Though the party was upbeat and the liquor was flowing, the weight of his newfound responsibility already seemed to have gotten to Jax. He was sitting and drinking rather than working the room, letting the guys come to him and offer their congrats. "You doin' okay, Jackie-boy?"

He nodded and smiled. "I'm sittin' here with my goddamn _VP_, right? Man…I just…_man_."

"I know, brother." Chibs took a swig of his beer and scanned the room, more than a little awed that he was now an officer in all this. He searched for but didn't find Ava. "Hey, you seen my kid?"

**-O-**

Ava studied him from under flagging lids, surprised that this time it was Happy who was drifting off. She was propped on an elbow, sheet wrapped loosely around her, and beside her, he was sprawled on his back, one arm draped casually on the pillow. Ava had this feeling that when it had started…God, two, three hours before…that he was trying to frighten her, drive her away. She was sore all over because she wouldn't be scared off. But he had eventually abandoned the plan and their interactions had become something desperate on both their parts.

This was what she'd known he would be like when he wasn't holding back. He was rough. Magnificent. Though she was sated, sleepy, and proud that she hadn't backed down, she also wondered how far she'd crossed the line. There was no going back to whatever sort of right-and-wrong limbo they'd had going on before. The relationship they'd had when she was a child was gone. And though it was hot, even if she loved him, wherever they were headed didn't feel like stable territory with his-and-her bathrobes.

She needed to dress and go back to the party. She'd already been gone too long and people would start to notice that both she and Hap were missing. And God knew if that Crow Eater would keep her damn mouth shut.

Remembering the blond, the sight of her hands gliding up the insides of his legs…

She ran her fingers down his ribs, tracing the outlines of his smiley face tats. "Happy…I gotta go."

"Sleep," he ordered, not opening his eyes.

"My dad -,"

"I don't give a fuck anymore," he grumbled. He rolled onto his side and pinned her to the bed with one limp arm.

Ava thought it was fatigue and alcohol talking, but when his eyes snapped open, he looked perfectly sober. "You don't care if they find out?"

"No."

**-O-**

Ava had no idea how long she'd been asleep when she started awake. She rubbed at her eyes and saw Happy sitting on the side of the bed, facing the door. She smelled cigarette smoke.

"What time is it?" she asked, voice thick.

"Dunno." He hissed a breath and she saw the thin grey trail of smoke curling up over his shoulder. "Late."

Her body screamed its protests as she climbed out from under the covers, but she moved to her knees behind him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her naked body to the hard expanse of his back.

"You okay?" Ava asked softly.

She was surprised to hear him chuckle. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I'm fine," she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

"No argument there."

She grinned. God, were they _joking_? Were they…shit, were they going to be okay after all this?

"We're fucked up," he grumbled.

"Yeah."

It was a quiet moment and Ava relaxed, enjoying the thump of his heart beating, the soft brush of his skin against hers. Tired and dreamy, it took her a moment to place the voice outside in the hall. But the music was just a soft murmur now and recognition slammed through her just as she caught sight of the door knob turning.

"Hey, Hap -,"

Jax froze in the doorway, cigarette dangling out of his mouth, one hand on the knob.

Hap's hand clamped onto her thigh, holding her out of sight behind him. "What?" he asked calmly, meeting his new President's stare.

Jax's shock lasted only a moment, and then his brows pulled low and his face screwed up with fury. "What the fuck, man?" his voice quivered. "Are…_are you shitting me_?"

Ava's throat seemed to close up. Her heart jumped into a gallop. "Jax -,"

"Not a word," he aimed a finger at her. "You," he turned it on Hap, face a thunderhead. "Chapel. _Now_." He slammed the door on them.

"Oh, God," Ava sat back on the bed, hands going to her mouth. "Oh, God. _Oh shit!_ Dad, he's gonna go tell _Dad_. Oh my God -,"

"Stop," Happy pulled her hands away and hooked a knuckle under her chin, forcing their gazes to meet. "You're fine, sweetheart. This is on me and I can handle it."

"No, no, no, no, no…" she shook her head. "No, this is bad, Happy, this is so bad."

"Get dressed," he reached for his jeans. "And go find your mom."

"But -,"

"Maggie knows, Ava. And she's the only one who isn't going to kill us, so go find her."

She shook her head, fighting the sting of tears, but started searching for her clothes.

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**September 1995**

It was a quiet stretch of hallway in the pediatric ward. With Maggie's complicating heart condition, she was being kept out of the general pop and had her own private recovery room. There was a nurse with cardio experience stationed with the other pedes. A crash cart. And The Amazing Dr. Paul had been by earlier, all bright white smiles and square good looks. He'd smiled at Gemma but given curious glances to the two bikers.

Jax was tired, but relieved over the good news, and was content to play with his lighter and zone out for a bit. They had decided that it would be better if Chibs went in to meet his three-day-old daughter alone, and had agreed to wait their turns.

Across the hall from him, Happy had been there for nearly a week, acting as sentry. He and a few of the other Tacoma boys had set up guard at the hospital in the unlikely, but horrifying event that the Irish stormed the place, looking for the girl who'd gotten away. Hap had been hanging around in waiting rooms and outside doorways, the last line of defense in case of an emergency. If he was tired, his face didn't show it. He had his feet braced apart, but refused to lean against the wall for support.

"They been givin' you shit?" Jax asked with a smile, imagining the hospital staff working around the killer.

He shrugged. "Nah."

Gemma paced away a few steps, restless, her boot heels loud against the tile. "Have you seen her yet, Hap?" she asked.

"I've been in with Maggie a time or two. Haven't seen the kid yet." His perma-frown deepened. "I don't like kids much."

The Queen laughed. "Way you run through women? There's bound to be a couple of little Hap Jr. bastards out there."

"That's why you buy your own condoms." He aimed a look at Jax. "Remember that; bitch can't trap you that way."

Jax nodded. He'd have to keep that in mind. He flicked the sop off his Zippo a few more times, watching the Tacoma biker for a moment. "Hey, Hap? You gonna be okay with what Clay talked about?" he nodded towards the door of Maggie's room. "With Mags and the kid…is that gonna be a'ight?"

He actually looked offended. "When the mother charter Prez asks you to do somethin', you step up."

Jax lifted his brows.

"They'll be fine, kid," he promised. "We'll look after your girls."

**October 2012**

It was a long way down to the foot of the table from his new chair. Jax wished he could take back the bourbon and the beer, the hours of playing host at the party. Then he might actually have the mental and emotional capacity for this conversation.

Now though, he was just angry. And he wondered if maybe he'd misread everything all along. He stared at the hard, expressionless killer down the table and felt like he didn't know the man. He guessed none of them did. Because the vigilant guard who didn't like kids and who'd acted out of obligation, had been in bed with his little cousin.

To his left, in his new seat, Chibs was radiating with furious energy, but his face had gone fighter-still. Like when he was younger and hitting the weekend fights in Lodi. Jax had asked Ope in to hold the new VP still, but aside from the four of them, the chapel was empty.

Jax sighed heavily. "Hap…" he sighed again. "Jesus, man…I just…what the fuck?"

The killer met his stare unblinking, his eyes dark shadows in the dim room. He said nothing.

Jax raked a hand through his hair, fighting his impulse to dive down the table and knock the shit out of him. "How long's this sick shit been goin' on?" he asked, voice hardening.

"Since Monday."

"Monday?" Chibs roared. He made a move to leap out of his chair and Opie clamped a death grip on his shoulder.

"Easy, bro, hear him out," he soothed.

"Hear him out?" Chibs leaned over the table, glaring down at Happy. "I sent you to my fuckin' house Monday! To fuckin' _check on her_! And you…" he trailed off into a snarl, unable to say it.

"Chibs," Jax said. "Lemme handle this."

"He ain't fuckin' your daughter!"

"I know. I know." He lit a cigarette to keep his hands occupied. "Hap, start talking."

Happy tilted his head a fraction, almost daring Jax to supply him with the _what if _part of the scenario.

He obliged. "Or I'll take your patches now."

"Not much to tell," Hap said with a shrug. He flicked his eyes towards Chibs briefly. "It happened. You saw."

"Oh, and that's all you have to say?" Chibs demanded.

"Chibs," Jax warned.

"Are you shittin' me?"

"Why," Jax spoke over his brother ", with all the girls around here, did you need to go after someone who's _underage _and _family_? Ava's seventeen, you asshole. I oughta have Hale arrest your ass."

"Sick fucker," Chibs said. "If you've hurt her -,"

Happy was fast. He had thus far been impassive, taking their fury. Now he rocked forward in his chair and slapped a palm down loudly on the table. "Don't _ever _accuse me of hurting her." His voice was low and dangerous, his eyes trained on Chibs. "I've been lookin' after her all seventeen of those years, goddamnit. And you think I'd let her get _hurt_?"

"Yeah, you were lookin' after her thinkin' what you wanted to do to her! You _fucked my little girl?_" Chibs just didn't seem able to wrap his head around it. He wrestled with Opie a moment, trying to get out of his chair. "She's my daughter," he fumed. "She's not your whore, she's _my daughter_."

Hap lowered his voice to something barely above a rough whisper. "Then where the fuck were you?"

It was silent a moment as the weight of what he'd said hit all of them. Where had any of them been when Ava was growing up? When she and Maggie had come back to Charming and been pursued by the Irish? Where was Chibs as her father?

"We all know you'll never take an Old Lady," Jax said quietly.

Hap eased back in his chair. Lit a smoke. Gave Chibs one last hateful look. "No." He met Jax's gaze. "I won't."

Chibs stroked at his goatee and fidgeted in his chair. Jax didn't know if the Old Lady comment was a relief or fuel to the fire. He wondered for a moment what Clay would do in this situation. But then realized that it wasn't up to Clay anymore, that it was his call.

"Why her? Why Ava?'

**-O-**

Happy knew that none of what he needed to say would be received well. If he were talking to Tig, to Koz, hell, Clay even…they would get it. They might not like it, might still call him a sicko, but they'd know what was going on in his head.

But Chibs and Jax were too emotionally invested, too caught up in Ava being a little girl to hear him out. They wouldn't understand that slowly, very slowly, protecting a person turned to a sort of ownership – not on his part, but on Ava's. Watching her had become second nature, like breathing. It was a part of his daily life he didn't have to think about. And somehow that had become entangled with the physical aspect of it. He'd known it was coming for a long time and had denied it thus far. It was too hard to fight it when someone adored you and knew enough about you to let you exist as you were.

So instead of outing himself, instead of ultimately making the girl's life more difficult by laying a claim to her, he did what he had to. "Because I could," he said levelly.

**-O-**

Ava was going to be sick. Just puke all down the front of her rumpled, hastily reapplied outfit. Every time she blinked, she saw Chibs' angry face, and Happy's calm one. The four of them had been in the chapel a long time now, Scottish accented outbursts coming through the crack in the door every so often.

Gemma and Clay had gone home. Tara, Lyla and the kids too. Juice was snoring lightly in a recliner. Tig and Koz stood grimly at opposite ends of the bar and the Prospect made a good show of sweeping while keeping an ear out for any revelations. Maggie was in a chair beside her, rubbing soothing circles across her back. Ava hadn't asked her mother how or if she knew, whether she was angry. She didn't feel anything besides nauseas at the moment.

Everyone present now knew, and those who weren't there soon would. She kept thinking that it wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed to be a bad thing. Their age difference – though it was greater than twenty years – should have been irrelevant. His reputation with the club shouldn't have had any bearing on the situation. He was Happy and she was Ava and that was all that mattered, damnit.

Her heart accelerated when the chapel doors opened, but it was just Opie. He spared her a blank look and crossed to the bar, leaning in close to Tig so the rest of the room couldn't hear their words.

"Alright," Tig said, shaking his head. He glanced over at Koz and nodded.

Ava felt her mother's hand on top of her head, smoothing her tangled hair, and didn't miss the silent communication that passed between her and Opie.

"What?" she asked, tongue feeling stuck in the back of her throat. "What's going on?"

"You should go home, baby," Maggie said quietly.

"Why?" the first little tingle of panic flared in her stomach. "I deserve a chance to defend myself. I wanna talk to -,"

Maggie shook her head, her eyes sad. "Go home. It's late."

Ava staggered to her feet, head swimming. This all felt surreal; sitting here calmly while Jax and her father decided what was to be done, the other guys all propped up casually. "You knew, didn't you?" she was talking too fast. "Mom, you didn't say anything…you can't be mad. Not at this…not…talk to them. Jax. Dad. Tell them -,"

"Home, Ava. Prospect?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Tux paused with broom mid-stroke. His light eyes were round and fretful.

"Can you take her home?"

"Mom," she was desperate now. "I'm not going home."

Maggie reached up and absently tugged at a wrinkle in the front of her shirt, her face pained. "Ava," she said quietly. "Hap has seriously fucked up. And whatever they decide…I don't want you here."

"What…" she glanced at Koz, at Tig. "Oh, God. What are they gonna do?"

"Tux, please, I don't want her here."

"_What are they gonna do_?"

Ava whirled at the sound of the chapel doors swinging wide. Jax came out first, jaw clenched. He didn't look at anyone but Bobby who stood over by the coat rack. "Set it up," he said tightly. Bobby nodded and slipped out the front door of the clubhouse.

Happy and Chibs emerged from the chapel together, but the air that crackled between them was anything but friendly. Dark, snuck glances and white knuckles…there was a collective intake of breath throughout the rest of the clubhouse. Tig turned away, disgusted. Ava felt her mother's hand slide into one of her back pockets, holding her in place. She was dimly aware of a snapped order for the Prospect to _get her the fuck out of here_.

She gave her father one, fleeting look that confirmed his rage, and then her eyes fell on Hap. She prayed for one look, one tilt of his head, any sort of acknowledgement. But he kept walking, Jax leading the way, and the three of them headed out the way Bobby had gone.

Ava started to shake all over as Opie leaned down next to Maggie. "Ava doesn't need to see this," he said quietly.

A hand closed lightly around her elbow. "Ava," Tux said, that bit of hillbilly softness more evident in his voice when he was anxious. "Your mama wants us to leave. C'mon."

She jerked violently out of his grasp. "Like hell." She glared at Opie. "See what? Why won't anyone tell me what's going on?"

He gave her one of his unreadable looks.

Maggie stood and grabbed her shoulders a little roughly. For the first time, Ava realized her mother had tears in her eyes. "They're going out to the ring, goddamnit! And they're gonna pound the shit outta each other. You really want to watch that?"

"No," Ava tried to shake loose. "No! They can't _fight _over this. Jesus…"

"Happy knows he's in the wrong," Opie spoke up. "This is how we handle things and then it won't be brought up again."

"But Jax -,"

"Jax is doing this to keep Hap here, and to keep your Old Man from killing him," he scowled, not at her, but at this whole fucked up situation. "It's gotta be this way, Ava."

She did a scan of the faces around her again, this time seeing the accusation in their expressions. Gemma, her mother, hell, Happy had even warned her off…and instead she'd ruined Jax's first night as President. She wouldn't take back one second spent with Hap, but looking at the turmoil she'd caused, she wanted to disappear. She loved him so much, and because of her, he was climbing in the ring with her dad.

Maggie was wiping at her cheeks before she knew she was crying. Ava stepped back, dashing a hand at her face, determined not to blubber in front of everyone. "I wanna watch," she said.

"Ava-,"

"I caused it, damnit!"

"Let her," Tig said from the bar. Ava shot a look over her shoulder and was startled by the intensity of his glare. "Let her see what she did to this club."

"Do not put this on her, Tig," Maggie hissed. "She's just a kid."

"Yeah? Then fucking control you kid! Can't you bitches keep from fucking things up around here?"

"Oh…" Maggie took a fast step towards the bar "…that's it."

"Hey," Koz stepped neatly in front of her. "Everybody calm the hell down, a'ight?"

Tig moved towards him. "Oh, fuck off, asshole. This ain't Tacoma -,"

"That's enough!"

The call from the door was so loud and so harsh it drew everyone's attention, and no one had figured the voice for Jax's. He was, for the first time Ava could remember, pissed beyond measure, but completely in control of himself.

"Enough," he repeated.

**-O-**

Koz had never really liked kids. They were loud and messy and took away a man's money and freedom. So it had come as a bit of a surprise to him that he'd become so fond of Ava. She'd been a very serious child, sarcastic looks and impish smiles.

He'd always filled the void of the inappropriate uncle who snuck beers and taught dirty words. And he had seen quickly that "Uncle Happy" was not an uncle in the girl's eyes. It had been subtle, but Ava had just _looked _at them differently. Like it was chemical almost and wasn't even aware of it. Hap had been uncomfortable about it, tried to reinforce the boundaries…but Koz knew he wouldn't last long. Happy cared about the girl like he did his brothers, or his mom. She was family. And though he knew that the killer crossing the line had been based on something more than physical impulse, he figured Ava's dad wasn't going to see it that way.

Obviously.

Tired of the shouting and the debating and watching Ava try desperately to hide her tears, Koz walked up behind the girl and pulled her into a sideways hug. "I'll take her," he told Maggie.

She sighed. "You sure?"

"Yep. Keys?"

Ava was a zombie and he had to literally pull her along with him to the parking lot. She had her arms banded around her middle, shaking. She stared at the ground and he didn't prod her with any stupid questions, but when they reached his bike, she turned back towards the clubhouse, towards the puddle of light that illuminated the ring.

"I want to watch," she said firmly. "You can bitch at me all you want, but I need to be here for this."

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Technically, they were out of sight over in the shadows, so Maggie might not know. And the kid had been fucking _Happy _for the past week…seeing a little fight action wouldn't scar her for life.

Koz glanced down, intending to ease into his approval, and was taken aback by the intensity of her expression. This kid, this _seventeen-year-old_, had done something to Hap she wasn't even aware of. And looking at her now, he knew her loyalty in this fight didn't lie with her father.

"Yeah. You can watch."

**-O-**

Jax stood with his arms draped over the ropes, his anger now a dull, insistent pulse. Hap was shirtless and Chibs down to a wifebeater, both of them squared off at opposite sides of the ring. Chibs had the training and the history, the boxing background, but it had been years since he'd been in the ring.

And Hap was lethal; he'd seen it in action. Not trained in what one would consider a classical sense, but every move had a function, every hit hard. Watching them, noting the tense stance of his VP and the calm of hit man, Jax had this sinking feeling that Chibs was the one who would come out bloody.

And then what? Happy had agreed to settle things in the ring…but if he won…did that mean he wanted to keep the girl? Shit, did he expect them to just hand over a fucking high school student like some kind of prize?

Bobby climbed out of the ring, joining him with a sigh. "This won't be pretty," he muttered.

Jax shook his head. No, it wouldn't.

Bobby told them to get to it and both fighters started to move; fists coming up and stances shifting.

But as Chibs moved in for his first swing, face hard with rage, Jax knew something was off. Just as Chibs approached striking distance, Hap dropped his hands, and the punch landed him square in the jaw. His head snapped back, but he recovered quickly, square on his feet and ready when the next hit connected with the bridge of his nose.

"Holy shit…" Jax let his cigarette drop to the pavement.

"Goddamn, he's just gonna take it," Bobby said, amazed.

Happy didn't move to defend himself once and Chibs didn't seem to take notice. He fell into an old rhythm of punches and combinations. Hap eventually just sagged back against the ropes and let his head fall on his chest, absorbing every blow.

Jax realized, with an odd tightness in his chest, that Happy cared enough about the club not to pick a fight over this. And enough about the girl that he needed the ass-beating.

"Jesus Christ."

**-O-**

Ava kicked until her feet were lifted off the ground. "Let me down," she gasped against the tight arms banded around her chest. "He's not fighting! Why isn't he defending himself?"

"Calm down, kid," Koz said. He pulled her back tighter against his chest. "He needs this just…shit. You can't help him."

She was sobbing openly now, tears clouding her vision. But she could still clearly see Happy against the ropes, hands limp at his sides, not even trying to block the punches. Chibs showed no signs of stopping, was just pouring all his outrage into every hit.

Happy, untouchable killer that he was, had blood all over him, spattered on his face and down his chest. He didn't fight back. Didn't fight _for her_.

She started shaking so bad she didn't realize what was happening as she was set on the back of a bike and had a helmet crammed on her head. Koz had to put her arms around his middle and she was glad for the roar of the bike's engine; then she at least couldn't hear the sound of fists hitting flesh.

**-O-**

The fist stabs of morning light were visible on the horizon when Chibs got home, the sky a dusky teal through the living room windows. As he headed down the hall towards the bedrooms, he made absent note that he hadn't washed the blood off his hands yet.

He hadn't once stopped to question the fact that Happy wasn't throwing any punches of his own, wasn't even guarding, and had proceeded to pound on him until the old injury in his right hand had forced him to stop. He'd landed head and body shots, had heard at least one rib give way, and didn't care that his brother had to be carried out of the ring. All he could see was Ava – innocent, underage, and violated. Hap's words were ringing in his head: _Where were you? _As if he'd had some control over being a part of his kid's life. As if his absenteeism gave that asshole some _right _to turn her into his whore.

And maybe worse than that, was the bland looks of the others – with the exception of Jax, everyone had hung their heads, all _damn, I knew this would happen. _They'd known. Tig, Kozik, the Prospect…_Maggie_.

"Where are you?" he called loudly, anger still distorting his words.

Maggie materialized from the shadowy doorway of Ava's room. She had her arms folded, head tilted defiantly. Tears had left clean streaks through her makeup. "Don't wake her up."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want. She -,"

"She's exhausted. And you broke her heart tonight." Maggie squared her shoulders, blocking the entrance to the room. "You will not yell at her about this."

He took a step closer, leaning into her face. "Oh, you wanna throw them a party then? You fuckin' _support _this?"

"It's not that simple."

"Then explain it to me!"

"Not when you're this angry. You won't understand right now."

"Oh," he faked a laugh. "Right. I'm only her father."

"And I'm her _mother_," Maggie said quietly. "And up until about four years ago, you didn't have a say in any of it. I won't let you take your goddamn Scottish rage out on her."

The urge to call her a bitch was too strong, so he left.

**-O-**

"Lights, Prospect."

There was a soft _click _of the switch flipping and then the overhead globe flooded the shitty motel room with flickering white light. The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled. The side tables were littered with a half dozen empty beers and one Coke can; he'd had the kid here.

"Next time," Tig grumbled to the semi-conscious Happy that he and Juice lugged towards the bed ", cover your fucking face."

He was a mess; face, torso. He was already starting to bruise. They laid him out and Tig sighed. Hap had to have a concussion, a cracked rib or two. It had been disturbing to watch him stand there, and then slump, while he took the beating. Happy _never _bowed out of a fight. And what Tig had thought of some sort of obsession with the girl, was shaping up to be something more after tonight's stunt.

"Doc's on her way," he said tiredly. "Tux, stay with him. He'll need to wake up every hour."

"Why?" Juice sounded dazed. "Why the hell didn't he defend himself?"

Tig knew what it was like to need the shit kicked out of you. It was an odd sentiment to explain though. "'Cause he loves that kid, man."

Juice's brows shot up. The Prospect's mouth actually fell open.

Tig nudged Hap in the foot and didn't get a reaction. "Poor shithead."

**TBC**

**AN: Sorry, guys. There's no way this wouldn't have consequences with some of the guys. But…I will say that there's still a lot of story left so don't worry too much about Ava and Hap.**


	15. Chapter 15

"Goddamn," Clay muttered. "How'd Jax take it?"

Tig rubbed at the headache between his eyes and stared at the table. It was quiet this early, Gemma's slippers loud as she moved from kitchen to dining room, refilling their mugs, smoking, eavesdropping. "Better than I thought actually. He was the one who finally pulled Chibs off. Hap looks bad, Clay," he shook his head.

Clay sighed, made a reach for his coffee, and then thought better of it with a wince. "Why do these damn Lawson women get you guys all turned around, huh? Jesus."

Gemma returned in time to overhear and she shot her husband an exhaled stream of smoke as she sat. "Dunno, maybe you and Tig can answer that for the rest of us."

"Ancient history, Gem," Tig said with a bit of a warning to his voice. "And Maggie always _knew _what she was doing."

"What?" she got that haughty, I-know-more-than-you look on her face. "You think Ava doesn't? That kid's smart, Tigger, and me tryin' to scare her off didn't do any good."

Clay made an exasperated sound in this throat. "Really? Are we really having club bullshit drama over this? Hap's good to the kid, let him fuckin' have her."

Tig and Gemma shared a quiet look. "This is what I was afraid of," Tig said.

"Give it a chance," Clay sighed. "Let the storm blow over and re-evaluate. And for the love of God, nobody _fuck _anybody they shouldn't."

**-O-**

"Jesus," Tara said as she snapped her gloves on. "What happened to him?"

Happy cracked his good eye and as beat up as he was, she still felt a little uneasy. Happy, like Tig, always set her a bit on edge, like she better not be sloppy with the needle or they'd take matters into their own hands. "Nothin'," he grumbled. "Just a fight."

_Just a fight, my ass _she though to herself as she peeled the covers down to his hips. Under all his tattoos, his skin was turning a purplish black in places, the bruises and the ink blending in a way that made it harder to pinpoint the injuries. She palpated his ribs and only earned a quick intake of breath from him, but confirmed her suspicion that several of them were broken.

"I'll have to wrap these," she commented more to herself than him. "Tux, can you bring me my bag?"

"No prob, doc." The Prospect set her medical kit on the edge of the bed, holding the top open as she rooted for tape and bandages.

"Happy, I wish you'd go to the ER. There's not much I can do for your face, but I'm worried about internal bleeding."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, you look it."

He gave her a one-eyed glare and she clamped her lips together. _Fine, bleed out. I don't care. _

Tux helped her tape his ribs and took the pain meds and instructions for use even as Happy was protesting about it. When the Prospect walked her out to her car, she threw in her two cents. "I did my best with his nose and it should heal up. But it wouldn't surprise me if he had a cheek fracture. The ribs will be okay if he keeps quiet for awhile. I'm sure he'll try to self med with liquor, but make sure he takes the Vicodin. If he loses consciousness and you can't wake him, call 911."

Tux nodded as he opened her door for her. "Yes, ma'am. I used to help my Uncle when…well, I'll take good care of him."

She nodded, not so much concerned about him as curious. "I've gotta ask…that kind of damage…how'd this happen?"

He had a hand braced on her open door and raked the other through his hair, chewing at his lip nervously. "Ava," he finally said.

"But she…" Tara's eyes widened when she caught his gaze. "Oh. Chibs did this?"

"Yeah."

She shook her head. "This family is so fucked up."

**-O-**

Jax leaned around the corner to check on Abel, finding the four-year-old stretched out on his belly in front of the TV. Satisfied with their privacy, he went back to the table, and though he was tired, didn't sit. He braced his hands on the back of a chair and faced off from Chibs. Tried to anyway; the Scot was staring at his hands, fiddling with his rings. At least he'd washed the blood off his knuckles.

"Maggie'll come around," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

Chibs shook his head. "Don't care."

"Yeah you do."

He glanced up, expression wounded. "A week, Jackie-boy. She hid this shit from me for a week."

Jax sighed. "Yeah, and Tara kept Mom's rape a secret for two months. This wasn't about you, bro. This was about Ava."

"Aye, pimpin' her out."

"No." He pulled out the chair and sat finally, exhausted. "You remember that Christmas I found out about you and Mags? And we spent the night in lockup?"

Chibs nodded reluctantly.

"And no matter what any of us said, Maggie was gonna do what she damn well wanted. I hate to say it, bro, but Ava's gonna be the same way."

"Yeah? Well I wasn't Happy. I _cared _about Maggie."

"Did you see what went down last night?" Jax lit a smoke and hoped the nicotine would clear his head. It didn't and he still felt the need to say what had been bothering him for hours now. "I think Hap cares. I think he cares _a lot._"

"You've lost it if you think I'll go along with this," Chibs snorted, digging out his own pack of cigarettes. "My daughter is a fuckin' minor and she ain't gonna end up with someone we all call 'killa'. Don't compare me and Maggie's thing to Ava. It ain't the same."

"What happens when she turns eighteen?" Jax prodded. "What if she up and leaves town because she's holdin' a grudge?"

"She's goin' to college. And she's not gonna be with him. End of story."

Jax sighed. He had realized, watching Gemma and Maggie, that there wasn't anything to be done with that family of women other than get the hell out of their way. And it killed him a little to think about Ava being just a girl and being with Hap of all people – guy was probably just as sick between the sheets as Tig – but knew that the girl wasn't so meek and unpolluted as Chibs wanted to think.

"Yeah," he said without conviction. "I hope you're right."

**-O-**

Maggie woke with a start and realized that bright, mid-morning sun was streaming through the windows and that Ava was no longer beside her. After Chibs had stormed out hours earlier, she'd found Ava in a shock-like tremble on top of her blankets, silent tears coursing down her face. Maggie had lay down beside her, hugged her to her chest, reassured her that it would all be okay. Now she propped up on an elbow and saw Ava standing in front of her open closet doors in her bra and thong, sorting through the hanging clothes.

Maggie instantly noted the fading bruise in the shape of a set of human teeth on the girl's backside, and tensed. She shut her eyes, wishing to erase the image from memory. It brought old memories of Tig crashing back, but some newer ones of Chibs as well. It was a harsh reality of the MC world – that the rough, uncouth bikers liked their sex rough and uncouth as well. Funny how what she enjoyed made her ill in reference to her daughter.

She feigned sleep and heard the closet doors close and then Ava's soft footfalls leave the room. A moment later, she heard the shower cut on.

**-O-**

She had the water as hot as it would go, steam billowing around her in the glass shower stall. Hands braced on the wall, head ducked under the spray, Ava slowly felt the kinks in her muscles relax, her sore body unwind. The heat loosened her up and burned at the bruising on her face, her arms, the insides of her thighs. Already exhausted, the hot water had her wobbling on her knees, fighting to stay upright.

But in the few fitful hours she'd tried to sleep, all she could see was Happy's bloodied face. Her father had been so, so angry…bust she didn't give a shit. Sure, she loved Chibs, and yeah, he'd been pulling his weight as dad these past four years, but that didn't come close to making up for the thirteen years in which the only man she could ever count on was Hap.

Memories of the night before prodded her; the tangles in her hair put there by his clenched fingers. The tenderness between her legs caused by his insanely hard thrusts on the floor…

Ava grew chilled thinking about what that night had cost her, cost _him_, and shut the water off. She toweled off, tied her wet hair in a knot, and pulled on sweats and an old SOA shirt that had been, fittingly, Happy's once upon a time.

She could smell pancakes before she reached the end of the hall, but hesitated. Her stomach rumbled at the prospect of food, but seeing her mother in front of the stove, spatula in hand, she wasn't sure if she'd be well received. Maggie holding her before could have been a knee-jerk, maternal reaction and not an act of compassion. Hunger won out eventually though and she slipped into the kitchen and took a seat at the bar without making a sound.

"Chocolate chips or blueberries?" Maggie asked without turning. The spatula scraped the bottom of the skillet, loud in the following silence.

This was how it had always been with them. If Maggie was upset, but not truly angry with her, she would flirt around the issue and there was usually some sort of food involved. This was an encouraging sign.

"Chocolate chips," Ava said, startled at the rough, croaky sound of her voice.

Maggie picked up the bag of Tollhouse chips on the counter and sprinkled a handful onto the gooey face of the cake she'd just started. Ava slumped onto one arm and waited quietly, eyelids heavy while her mother finished. When Maggie turned, she offered a tired, sad smile. Her eyes were red and puffy. Ava felt her own eyes start to burn, confused and somehow emotional that this was affecting her mother to the point of tears too.

Maggie set the plate in front of her, folded a napkin into neat thirds, fetched the syrup from the pantry. Ava drizzled it on slowly, watching her mom from the corner of her eye. "Just, Mom…I'm too tired, and I…if you're gonna be mad, just please go ahead and be mad. I can't handle the waiting."

Maggie tried to smile again and failed. "Babe," she reached across the bar and tucked a wet tendril of hair behind Ava's ear. "I'm not mad."

Ava started to pick up her fork and her hand was shaking too badly. She pushed the plate away, queasy.

Maggie's thumb brushed along her jaw, and she felt the little flare of soreness. She had seen the ghostly bruise in the mirror earlier. "I just…" Maggie pulled in a deep breath. "I want you to be honest with me. Did he hurt you at all? And I don't mean rough sex, I mean, did he _hurt _you?"

Ava shook her head emphatically. "Never. Mom, he would never…" tears threatened again and she looked at the ceiling, trying to regain her composure.

"I know, baby, I know. A mom has to check these things though," Maggie said as she came around the bar and climbed onto the neighboring stool.

Ava thought of the way her face had been pressed into the hardwood, and then the softness in him when he'd rolled her over. He'd told her he was sorry, when he was inside her, when she was coming like a thunderstorm. The bruises he put on her didn't count as injuries…not like the punches Chibs had delivered. She closed her eyes and tears came even though she fought them.

Maggie's arm came around her shoulders. "Ava, I'm not mad at you. It kills me, physically hurts me to think about you growing up, being with one of these guys. I don't want you to have my life of worry and heartache. I want you to go to college and get a career, a husband with a nine to five who wants you to have fifteen babies and doesn't believe in 'what happens on a run' bullshit."

Ava pulled in a shuddering breath and wiped at her face.

"But," Maggie continued gently. "I know that you _love _him. You love Hap more than you'll ever love anyone."

She glanced sideways, surprised at her mother's words. Maggie cocked her head. "I know that, sweetheart. I know it's not a crush, I know it isn't some stupid faze. You love him so much it hurts. Trust me, I've been there. Have you met your goddamn father? Pain in the ass that man."

Ava couldn't help but smile.

"I don't want you to throw your future away, Hap doesn't want you to either," Maggie said. "When you get tied up with one of these men, you can't just walk away. And I don't want that for you."

"I don't want the nine-to-five husband and the kids. I don't," Ava insisted.

"Life would get real lonely waiting on him to come home every night."

"I don't care."

Maggie sighed and squeezed her shoulders. "Ugh. I know."

"I want to see him."

"Baby, I don't think that's a good idea."

Ava shook her head. "No, I need to. I need to make sure…I just…"

"You're just making this harder."

"Again, don't care."

Maggie threw up her other hand in defeat. "We'll see," she relented. "But first you need to eat, take a nap. You're too tired."

Ava picked up her fork and stabbed at a pancake halfheartedly. "Yeah. Okay."

**-O-**

The last time Happy had been in this kind of hurt, he'd been twenty-one and running from dealer he'd double crossed. He was looking to break into an MC at that point, HA, Sons of Silence…any club that would take him. He'd laid his bike out on the interstate and had spent a week in the hospital.

That was what this felt like. Since that blindingly bright day he'd been smeared across four lanes of Colorado interstate, he hadn't ever let a hot head get him in trouble. He was careful. He could handle himself.

But this hadn't been an accident or a deal gone wrong. This had been self inflicted. His twenty lashes for taking a girl's innocence, breaking her family's trust, and disrupting the club.

He cracked his good eye, doing his routine sweep of the room. The Prospect was still in front of the TV with a beer. His ribs still hurt, more from the bandaging than the breaks, and his face still felt like hamburger. He was alright.

He heard the knock on the door, saw Tux go to answer it, and half wondered if it wasn't Chibs back to finish the job. It didn't matter that he felt owed, that he wanted Ava for himself, the Scotsman would be justified in shooting him. It took him a moment to realize that it was Maggie who'd come to stand at the foot of his bed. Tux stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

Maggie shook her head. "You look like shit, dude."

"Thanks."

She tilted her head. "I mean, really. Have you been in front of a mirror?"

"Where's Ava?"

Maggie grinned. "Why are you asking?"

He tried to frown but it put too much pressure on his broken cheek. "I don't want her gettin' in trouble for this. This is on me. The kid didn't have anything -,"

"Hap," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You can't fool me. You and I both know this was more Ava's idea than yours."

He started to ask her what the fuck kind of game she was playing; warning him off and then coming to see him. This bitch was too much of a hassle, had ulterior motives and shit. But asking seemed like a waste of energy, so he stared her down with his workable eye.

"When I got after you the other day," she said as if reading his mind. "I was pissed, yeah. I don't like the thought of my girl with some experienced ODB, Hap. But my big worry is about next year. Ava's going to college and she's getting the future I was too stupid to go after. Don't take that from her."

"I'm not that selfish," he growled.

"I know." She nodded and then moved towards the door. "She's outside. She wants to see you."

Seeing him like this was the last thing she needed. Last night was his way of letting go; one last night for himself, and then a public beating. Ava didn't need to see the ugly aftereffects. He nodded anyway.

Maggie left and he heard whispers traded at the door. Ava came in silent save for the gentle way she breathed. She hesitated and put a hand to her mouth, brows climbing her forehead. "Oh, God."

"I'm not dead," he told her. "Don't look at me like that."

She came up to the bed slowly, looking near tears anyway. "Happy…" her voice was faraway, child like. Apologetic.

"You shouldn't be here."

"That's what Mom said."

"You should listen…she's right every once in a while."

Ava started to laugh, but ended up choking on a sob instead. She wiped hurriedly at her eyes. "You're not funny."

No, he wasn't. He watched her watch him, wishing she would just leave. She was just making this harder, trying to hold onto something he didn't have to offer. But she looked so tired, the rings under her eyes so dark…

"C'mere."

She came around to the opposite side of the bed and climbed in beside him. The sheets rustled, the mattress moved a bit, and then she was settled on her side, one hand on his arm, not having to be told what hurt and where not to touch. She sighed.

It felt peaceful. He could close his eyes – eye – go to sleep. Ava would stay, unobtrusive, watchful until her own fatigue won out. He idly wondered if this was why people had dogs, this sense of company. Warmth. Understanding.

"You should go," he said, voice all gravel.

Her hand fluttered on his arm. "Five minutes. Please."

"Five minutes."

**-O-**

Tux didn't discriminate between the two cousins; Gemma and Maggie were equally frightening. He sat on the curb and tried not to stare as she leaned back against the grille of her Caddy. _Total MILF _he thought idly. He'd heard that was never a good thing to say about someone's Old Lady.

"You wanna smoke?" he offered, holding up his pack of Marlboros.

She tapped her chest. "No, thanks. Doctor's orders."

He nodded and lit one up for himself. There were quite a few questions he wanted to ask about this whole situation. When he'd come from Idaho, they'd all called him an inbred; and now look at little underage Ava with Happy. She was cute and all, but she sure as hell didn't warrant an arrest on statutory rape violations. He didn't blame Chibs for what he'd done.

"I don't mean to pry," Maggie gave him a hooded glance ", but your husband's still mad, ain't he?"

Her smile was thin. "I use his name to make things easier with the schools. But he's not my husband. We never married."

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be. It makes it easier when I'm pissed at him."

**-O-**

He looked so bad; not ugly to her, but as if he hurt. She'd done that. She'd caused the fight, his broken bones, her parents' argument, all of it. Ava curled her hand around his upper arm and worked it slowly up and down, trying to absorb the feel of his skin into memory. She had a feeling that –

"You know this is it, right?" Hap asked. His voice was twice as deep and rough as normal.

She sighed. "Yeah. I know."

"We can't be a _we_, sweetheart."

"I know." And even though she did know, she felt the tears start up again anyway. She had thought that by now, she'd be all cried out, but no such luck.

"I'm sorry, kid."

"Me too."

The rush of traffic noise outside heightened as the door opened. "Let's go, babe," Maggie called.

Five minutes hadn't been enough, but Ava pushed up into a sitting position. His eye that wasn't purple and swollen shut followed her, watched her tuck loose hair behind her ears. "Hap, what you told me awhile back, about the two women in your life…you still mean that?"

He nodded once. "Absolutely."

Ava swiped at her eyes, leaned forward carefully, and kissed him. "Bye."

**-O-**

Darby should have known. Just days after the Sons had come around asking about Keith Byers and the lard-ass was now blubbering in his living room, desperate for a supplier.

"Goddamn, get a hold of yourself," Darby sneered.

"Darby, please, man. I got canned from my gig at the school…I…I can't afford the mortgage. I just need an advance on some of your stuff. My customer base is steady, I'm good for the money."

Darby frowned. "First off, _nobody _deals in Charming. Have you not seen what SAMCRO's done to my business? You can't move shit in this town. And second, why the fuck would I help you?"

"Drake was part of the Brotherhood -,"

"That two-bit rat wasn't part of shit."

Byers didn't seem to be hearing most of what he said. He raked his hands through his hair. "I don't even know what happened to him. I just got told he was dead, Mayans they said."

Darby rolled his eyes. "It wasn't the Mayans, you idiot."

"It wasn't?"

"Hell no, that was the Sons. They came around asking me about you. Wanted to know if you ran with my crew – which you don't, by the way."

"Me?" he looked stunned. "What did they want with me?"

"What do they always want? To shut down trade in Charming."

Byers shook his head. "But Drake was in Pope…no way they could have known about the school…there's no…" his bug eyes widened. "Holy shit."

Darby sighed. Was he really still having this conversation? It was becoming more and more tempting to pick up the .357 off the side table and blow this idiot away. "Holy shit what?" he asked with a sigh.

'That girl," Byers leaned forward in his chair. "That little bitch who picked a fight at the bonfire…Jesus."

The mention of a girl piqued Darby's interest. "What girl? The hell you talking about?"

Byers stood and stared pacing the length of the coffee table. "One of the Son's kids goes to CHS…little bitch picked a fight…gonna get suspended for it…_shit_, I was the witness to her hearing."

He smiled. "See? SAMCRO shut you down."

**-O-**

Chibs spent the afternoon riding around, thinking. But when he pulled back into the driveway that evening, the calm he'd achieved that day on his bike evaporated. He still wanted to kill Hap. He still resented Maggie for throwing his absence in his face, and he was so distraught about Ava that he didn't know if he could talk to her.

Maggie was at the kitchen table with a magazine and gave him a _hope you die _look. "I swear, if you -,"

"I just wanna talk to her," he snapped.

Ava was on the couch, cross-legged and staring blankly at the TV. Chibs sat beside her slowly, almost afraid of a violent reaction. But she didn't move. Didn't acknowledge him. He reached to brush at her cheek, chest tightening when he saw the fading bruise along her jaw. _Fucker. Should've killed him. _"Sweetheart -,"

She leaned sideways, neatly evading his touch.

"Ava."

"Don't talk to me, please," she said robotically. "I don't want you to come pretend you care about what's best for me."

His anger boiled. "He disrespected you, and me, and this club. He deserves worse than what he got."

Ava shrugged. "Doesn't mean I can forgive you though."

He shoved off the couch and headed back through the kitchen. Maggie had closed her magazine and was staring at him with a mix of anger and sympathy. He wasn't about to shrug off her betrayal, but it was harder to take from his daughter. "What do I do?" he asked helplessly. "How do I get her back?"

Maggie sighed. "Give her time. And quit being an unforgiving ass about Hap."

Chibs snorted. "Not likely."

She shrugged. "Well then, enjoy the couch this evening."

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: The action picks up next chapter – this is the last of the conversational drama for now. I'm thinking, based on the number of reviews of this fic based on the preceding two, that some of you guys may not have read the Chibs stories. You may not want to and that's fine, but if you want, tell me if you'd like a rundown on the history there if things don't make sense. Just thought I'd offer a recap if anyone wants one.**

**Otherwise, thanks, and…**

Richie Grant was not a patient person. Coach Byers didn't show up Monday and he chalked it up to illness. On Tuesday, he thought a second absence was pushing it a bit. And on Wednesday, he cut out of third period Calculus and drove to the Coach's house.

The yard was weed choked and the sidewalks cracked. The coach lived in a section of town where some of those white hate cronies did and all the house fronts were neglected, the streets unusually quiet. There were no shouting kids or barking dogs. No radios thumping.

Richie parked his Sentra sideways behind Byers' old Jeep and jogged up the sidewalk. "Hey, Coach!" he pounded on the door. Peeked through the grimy, cobwebbed sidelights. "Coach! Open up!"

He'd been a day without his fix and it was starting to be unbearable. The twitching eyelids, the sweaty palms, the nervousness. He'd started during camp with some speed, trying to up his game, hoping to make first string his Senior season. Then he'd moved to X. To coke. The crank had become addictive instantly. And Coach always had the goods. But stupid fucking Coach had been out for three days now.

"I know you're in there!" he bellowed. He slammed the side of his fist against the door a few more times. "Fucking open up!"

He heard footfalls, heavy and fast, the lock clicked, and then Byers shoved his round, sweaty face through the cracked door. "Richie," he seemed surprised. "What are you doing here? I've been out sick -,"

"You're not sick," Richie hissed. "Where've you been? I been dying, man."

Byers frowned. "I sent you a text, I'm temporarily out of stock."

"Out of stock? How the hell are you out of stock?"

The coach opened the door wide and stepped over. "Come in if you're going to yell. I don't want anyone hearing this."

Richie charged in, the BO and stale takeout stench of the place souring his stomach. It was warm, too warm, and sweat glazed over his face and down his arms. "I need more," he said in a rush, turning and watching the slob close them in.

Byers was starting to look nervous. "I don't have any more right now. I'm trying to find a new supplier -,"

"What happened to the old one?"

"He got bumped off," he fumed, shaking his head. "That little San Crow bitch who beat up your girl got her damn boys turned on my supplier. Sons wiped him out."

"Bitch? What bitch…?" Richie felt his stomach drop out. "Ava Telford? That _little bitch_! When I get hold of her…"

"Got me fired too," Byers admitted, face flushed with anger. "Those damn Sons have been fucking me over since high school. Assholes."

Richie wasn't listening anymore. All he could see was that little bitch's fairy face. Stupid cunt, couldn't just mind her own goddamn business. The only thing a girl like that was good for was a fuck, and she had the nerve to mess with _him_? To come into the real part of town and start messing with people's lives?

His sweaty hands curled into fists. God help that bitch when she came back to school.

**-O-**

Ava started to put the whipped cream back in the fridge, but thought better of it and added another swirl to her sundae.

"I don't know how you eat like this, girl," Caroline shook her head as she spooned up a bite of her modest scoop of ice cream. She was eyeing Ava's concoction of Rocky Road, hot fudge, sprinkles and Redi Whip with an envious look.

Ava heeled the fridge shut and sat with a sigh. "I have Dad's metabolism."

Caroline raised a single brow.

"His old metabolism…not the new one." She took a bite and half way smiled for what felt like the first time in days. She hadn't been out of the house since her visit to Hap on Saturday and knew she had been slowly spiraling into a full-on state of depression. Her parents hadn't made up. And God knew what things were like at the clubhouse. She'd called Caroline, spilled out the whole sordid story, and cried her apologies over the phone. Her friend had then promptly skipped school so they could spend the afternoon doing chick stuff. Nails, makeup, shitty daytime TV.

Ava swiped her spoon through the whipped cream, creating a little canyon the sprinkles fell into. "Have I told you yet how sorry I am?" she asked quietly.

"Eighty two times. That's plenty, babe."

She glanced across the table with a sheepish look. "I just can't believe I was such a bitch."

Caroline waved it off with a _whatever _face. "What I can't friggin' believe is this dude of yours…I mean, let your dad beat the shit out of him? That's like some Shakespearean tragedy shit right there."

Ava studied her dessert intently. "I think he means it this time, about us not being together. And I mean…I know why he thinks that way…but, I'm not sure if I can handle that." She glanced up at her friend, willing her to understand. "I know that makes me weak…but I don't think I can see him, be around him, and not be _with _him. Not after…everything."

"Ava," Caroline said firmly. "No way is he going to _let your dad beat him _and then just walk away. Once a tragic hero, always a tragic hero. Don't start stringing up nooses just yet."

Ava grinned. "You think?"

"Definitely."

**-O-**

Maggie shouldn't have thought it so amusing, but she found herself chuckling under her breath as she watched Chibs through the blinds. He'd been pacing around outside the office for a half hour now, smoking, grumbling to himself. He'd started to come in twice and had changed his mind. She'd managed to freeze him out for almost five days now, which was a new record. _Horny jackass _she thought with a smirk. _Let your dick outweigh your pride every time._

"Just come in already," she called through the open door.

That got his attention. He flung his cigarette down and came charging into the office. "You've got a lot of fuckin' nerve if you think I'll take orders -,"

Maggie held up a hand, halting him mid-sentence. "I want to talk, okay? No yelling. I'll say what I want and you say what you want. Deal?"

He sat down across from her, pushed his shades into his hair, and scowled. "Why did you hide this from me?"

She arched her brows. "You kept your _wife _from me for fourteen years, Chibs, so let's not do the secret dance."

He said nothing and stared at her. She heard his knuckles crack.

Maggie wondered how they'd come to this point. After everything, all their time and heartache and drama, they had come out on the other side of all that, and _this _was turning into the argument of the century. But she supposed that all their other fights had been about them, and not about their child. Usually Chibs was the one to cave first, to be the one to reach out. But she didn't think that would happen this time.

She pulled in a deep, calming breath and tried to wipe the pissed expression off her face. "I know," she said slowly ", that you won't ever see Kerianne again."

He shifted back in the chair.

"I know Ava's your little girl and trust me, I know exactly why this has you torn up. It has me torn up too."

The anger left him in a rush and he looked tired and grey. He pulled a hand back through his hair that was as long as Jax's these days. "I don't like thinkin' about her growin' up, but I knew there would be somebody. I just never thought…shit, some Prospect, Juice…_anyone _would be better. He's nearly my age, Maggie. That ain't right."

"And if you take age out of the equation? I've seen girls prancing around here not a year or two older than her. And that's okay?"

"Ava's not a sweetbutt. There's a difference."

"That's not Hap's intention and you know it."

He frowned. "I got no idea what his 'intention' is."

Maggie sighed and took the phone off the hook. This could take some time. "Baby, when Ava was little, when it was just the two of us -,"

"Clay _told _him to look after you."

"He didn't tell him to get involved. That little girl had the whole Tacoma charter wrapped around her little finger. They were amazing to her, to me. It was the only thing that kept me sane sometimes knowing Hap was coming and he'd have news about you and he could get her to laugh. He's known Ava her whole life. He'd take a bullet for her. This isn't just a quick fuck, Chibs. Ava's not about pussy for him."

He pulled a face at the use of 'Ava' and 'pussy' in the same sentence. "It's sick."

"He loves her. You think he'd ever let something happen to her?"

Chibs didn't have an answer for that.

She sighed again. "Baby, trust me, I don't want her to be an Old Lady, I don't. I love you and I wouldn't trade what I've got, but I know life would be easier for her if she got away from the club."

"The club's family. She won't ever be able to just get away from that."

"It's in her blood?"

"Aye."

She leaned forward, eyes pleading. "Then where does that leave her? Unless we send her to fucking Timbuktu, she's gonna be with Hap. We can ask him to back off, wait till she's legal, but we raised her to believe that this club was everything, and now we don't want her to be with a member? We can't do her that way. If she stays, if she goes to school locally, it's gonna happen."

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, hands holding his hair off his face. "There's no way she'll get over it?"

"Maybe. Might take a year or two. But," he gave her a _what now _look. "How many times has Tara hurt Jax? And he couldn't ever turn her away." She lowered her voice. "How many times did you hurt me?"

He groaned, not wanting to hear it.

"She's having a rough year. Let's just help her get through it, _not _kill Happy, and go from there."

He grumbled something she couldn't hear and sat back, looking restless. They stared at one another a long moment. She saw one corner of his mouth quirk, scar curling up, and knew she'd won. "You know," he mused ", that almost sounded like you telling me what to do."

"No," she stood and crossed to the far wall, shutting the blinds and then the door. "That was you coming to your own, rational conclusion."

He nearly smiled as she went towards him and perched sideways on his lap. "You know, Jackie-boy was always so worried I'd be bad for you…asshole didn't warn me about you being so difficult."

Her grin widened. "Ah ha. Maybe you should do Hap a favor and warn him about Ava, huh?"

He snorted. "I haven't agreed not to kill him yet. Don't push it."

Maggie leaned down and kissed him. The victorious pride left her and she sighed as she pulled back. "I hate when we fight."

"Aye."

"Can you at least _try _to calm down a little? If Hap agrees to back off?"

"We'll see."

**-O-**

Hap was done with the doctor bullshit. He stood in front of the cracked mirror in his motel bathroom, scissors in hand. He'd already pulled the bandage off the bridge of his nose – it wasn't doing any good – and was now determined to cut the bindings off his torso. His arms hadn't been hit, what with standing still like a pussy, and the maneuvering was easy enough.

The skin over his ribs looked rough, a whole mess of black that blended with his ink. He tested the sensitivity with a finger. They were sore.

He heard the knock a second before the door creaked open. "Hap!" Tig's voice was distinct. "You here, man?"

Happy stepped out into the room, ignoring the fact that walking so quickly made him dizzy. "S'up?"

Tig grimaced. "Damn. You look like shit."

He braced a shoulder against the wall and waited. Tig didn't visit people. Hell, he didn't either. There was a point here.

The Sgt at Arms scuffed his boots across the forest green carpet. "Jax wants you to come in," he said without looking up. "Wants a one-on-one."

"'Kay."

"I don't get it," Tig shook his head and then met his gaze. "I thought you just needed to get it outta your system. But letting yourself get caught? What the fuck, Hap? That ain't you."

"You a shrink now?"

Tig glared at him and he shrugged. "Really, it's nobody's goddamn business."

The other man had questions, accusations even, but he left them unsaid. He gave him a curt nod and then stepped out, leaving the door open. That meant Jax wanted the sit-down now and not later. With a grimace, he went in search of some clothes that weren't covered in blood.

**-O-**

Hap felt the eyes on him as he walked past the open garage bays. He didn't search Chibs out, but he knew he was there. He didn't feel like chatting. The bruises on his face, his limp…that was payment enough. And he wasn't going to touch the girl again, so let him stew.

Jax was alone in the chapel, sitting casually at the head of the table, one hand resting on the worn redwood. "Close the doors, bro," he said with a nod when Hap entered.

_Bro _was better than _asshole_. Happy sat, successfully hiding his wince, in Tig's seat. There was no need for the drama of a head-to-foot-of-the-table discussion this time. Jax's face was relaxed, eyes wide and searching. He wasn't going to get yelled at.

"I've been thinkin' a lot," the new Prez said, lighting a smoke. "And I don't want what went down the other night to change the way things work around here."

Hap nodded.

"This isn't just a club, it's a brotherhood. Family. And we forgive family when they fuck up."

This was new and very not-Clay. This was Jax taking the reins and doing so in a purposefully different and more congenial way. "Shit, man," Jax shook his head. "You've done a helluva lot for this club…my family in particular. I don't know what we would have done with Maggie and the kid without your help." He knocked the ash off his cigarette. His eyes flashed upwards, bright with something like regret. "_But_, Ava's a minor, man. And you went behind our backs on this."

He nodded again. There was no way to explain it in a favorable light.

"I won't lie and say I'm not having a hard time swallowing that. I am." His face was earnest. "I talked to Chibs and he and I agree that we want you around…need you around. But Ava's off limits. She's underage and I can't get behind that."

"I figured," Hap said with a sigh. "That's cool. I can stay away."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Jax nodded and pushed his chair back. "I just want what's best for the kid, Hap. We love her a lot."

"Yeah. We do."

**-O-**

"How'd that go?" Chibs asked, digging for his lighter.

Jax leaned back against a big Craftsman tool chest and folded his arms. They both watched Hap gingerly walk his way back to his bike. He sighed. "He said all the right things. I think he got the message. We'll just have to wait and see."

Chibs had always liked Happy, for a lot of reasons. So it was somewhat surprising that he was so angry now. Maggie said she understood, tried to placate him, but she didn't get it. As a man, he knew what other men saw, what they thought, what they wanted, what they _did_. He'd been on runs with the man, he'd seen how he was with women. And to add his daughter into that rough, kinky equation made him sick to his stomach.

If it had been a kid from her school, some new Prospect, he could have suspected, but he wouldn't really have known what the guy was after. Hap wasn't random, he was Redwood these days, and he didn't understand how he could have watched the girl grow up and want her like that.

Thinking about it had him pissed all over again and he gave up on the fruitless search for his lighter. "Maggie doesn't think Ava will give up on this."

Jax snorted a laugh. "Maggie didn't give up on you, why would her kid be any different?"

Chibs gave him a disgruntled look and he held up his hands. "Hey, I'm just sayin'. And I meant what I said earlier, about not doing things the way Clay would. Nobody's arrested, nobody's hurt…I'm not excommunicating Hap just yet."

Chibs sighed, but nodded in agreement. "That new leaf you're tryin' to turn could piss me off, Jackie-boy."

"Could piss me off too."

**-O-**

Ava avoided the garage until Friday. Maggie called from the office phone to say she'd left her cell at home. So she tried to hide the dark circles under eyes with a little makeup and drove to T-M with a whole tangle of butterflies flopping around in her gut. She pulled over once, flung her door open and coughed through a spell of dry heaves on the shoulder. But she hadn't eaten breakfast and only succeeded in spitting a glob of bile on the asphalt.

She shouldn't have been anxious. But she hadn't seen any of the guys since the previous Friday night's disaster. Maggie and Chibs had made up, but she still wasn't talking to her father. And the prospect of seeing Happy and not being a _we _left her shaking.

Maggie was dealing with a walk-in customer, so Ava set her Blackberry on a file cabinet and jangled her keys. _I'm going back home._

Maggie frowned but nodded.

It was a bright day, the air cool and dry, feeling of desert. She tugged down the rolled sleeves of her hoodie as she headed across the parking lot and made it almost to her truck before she heard "Hey, kid."

She knew the voice instantly and hated it. She turned, face already sour and saw Tig walking up to her, toweling oil off his hands. "I'm on my way out," she tried to evade, even as he came closer.

"Nah," he shook his head. "We need to talk."

"What could _we _possibly need to talk about? Besides, I'd rather not hang around here."

He rolled his eyes. "Hap ain't here." He walked around her truck and dropped the tailgate. "Sit."

Ava narrowed her eyes as she complied, not liking the direction this could go. As far as she knew, Tig couldn't stand her, and being alone with him wasn't one of the things she wanted to cross of her list of dangerous situations to avoid. "Talk about what?" she repeated, hopping onto the tailgate.

He made a disgusted noise. "Don't you women ever stop asking questions? Jesus."

"No. Hence the fact that you can't keep one around."

He glared at her. "Watch it."

"Tig -,"

"Hap doesn't need to go Nomad again," he pinned her with a hard look. Charming's going too soft and we need him around."

She frowned, surprised at the bluntness, and a little confused. "I heard Jax talked to him…they're okay with him now."

He shook his head impatiently. "Maybe if you don't go and fuck that up. That arrangement only works if he doesn't end up in your pants again."

She barked an angry laugh. "Oh, you're _threatening me_? That's rich. First Gemma and then you?"

"This about protecting the club," he said, leaning down in her face.

"The club or yourself? Trust me, Tig, when it comes to _the club_, Hap's my first priority. I'll do whatever's best for him, _including _staying away from him."

He was pissed. "You're a loyal bitch, huh?"

She stared daggers at him, wanted to slap him but knew it would only get her slammed face first to the pavement. "You have no idea."

It was tense a moment and Ava wondered if maybe he wouldn't have taken the slap better than the angry stare-down. But then, in a fast move, he shoved away from the truck and grinned. He nodded. "Get outta here."

She didn't question his change in mood, but closed her tailgate and headed towards the front of the truck. He thumped her amiably on the arm as he walked back to the garage.

"Good girl."

Ava shook her head. That man was _weird. _

**TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Happy Friday. I promised action this time, but realized I wanted all of that action to happen in one chapter, not split into two with a cliffhanger. So, a little more build up before the shit hits the fan next time.**

**And I know I've said thank you before, but I really mean that. I mean, really. My first story had 40 reviews, and the response to this fic has me freaking giddy. I kid you not. I'm thrilled so many have hung on with my OCs and their menfolk. Thank all of you so much!**

…

Sunday night, Ava was staring at her charcoal portrait again, knees curled to her chest, arms around her legs. She had her hearing at school the next morning and she wasn't sure which possibility was more terrifying; returning to class as if nothing had happened, or being sent to the alternative school with metal detectors and bars on the windows. Either way, she'd be the subject of much staring and finger pointing. She had thought, that after everything with Happy, this wouldn't be a big deal. But it was. Her stomach was in knots.

Her door opened with a soft click and the brush of wood across the carpet. She knew it was Maggie without turning; Chibs had given up on getting anything more than a nod from her.

"You stuck?" she asked, coming to look over her shoulder.

Ava sighed. "I've been staring at this for an hour…and nothing. I just…I dunno, don't feel creative."

"It's gorgeous," Maggie said, reaching out to touch the edge of the paper.

Ava turned her head sideways, trying to see it the same way an outsider would – she was jaded about her own work. It was Abel; sketched from a picture taken when he was two. He was sitting on the floor, legs splayed apart, reaching for a ball someone had rolled towards him. She had tried to capture the motion of the photo, the swish of his blond hair as it fell forward, the creases in his overalls, the flexion in his stubby fingers. The bones of the picture were there, but she had a lot of shading left to do.

"Thanks."

"Are you still thinking about art school?" Maggie asked carefully.

That was one thing Ava took for granted sometimes; her parents' complete agreement with whatever path she chose. Caroline's parents were insisting she study something useful, like finance or some boring shit. But Chibs and Maggie were so thrilled that she was even thinking of college, that they didn't care about her major.

"I dunno," she said with a sigh. "Ms. Stanley won't say so outright, but I get the feeling my portfolio isn't shaping up the way it should."

Maggie put her hands on her hips. "Yeah? What does that old bitch know about art?"

Ava almost smiled. "More than me. But Mrs. Hagan thinks I show 'promise'. She wants me to submit something to the school paper."

"Why don't you?"

She shrugged. "No one would read it."

Maggie flicked her shoulder. "You should do it. Who knows, maybe you'll want to be a journalist."

"Maybe."

"Look," Maggie sat on the foot of the bed. "That's not really why I came in here. I got a call from your principal."

Ava twisted around. "You did?"

Maggie was smiling smugly. "Uh huh. She said to tell you, and I quote, that 'Ava's situation has been rethought and a hearing will no longer be necessary'."

"Are you serious?"

She nodded, smile growing. "She wants to talk to you in her office in the morning, but otherwise, punishment over. No expulsion."

Relief and anxiety were dueling it out for supremacy, giving her the cold chills. She shook her head. "How?"

"I think our boys came through," Maggie said with a wink. She stood and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "I'm guessing one in particular."

Ava felt a smile tug.

"Get some sleep, baby. You'll need it for tomorrow."

**-O-**

Sunday night had turned into some sort of bachelor night at the clubhouse. Anyone with an Old Lady clocked out early; pot roast, football, and routine sex. It was a quiet evening and with no parties and no church meetings, the Prospect was getting to play the field a little. Hap watched with mild amusement as Tux chatted up a little brunette at the bar.

Like all Prospects, this one was still finding his footing, slipping every now and then. He made stupid mistakes. But Hap saw something under all that _yes ma'am _farm boy dullness. He wasn't twitchy like Half-Sack had been, had a sure way with his feet and hands. The bloodshed was getting to him a bit, but he would learn. They always learned. He had a hand on the girl's thigh, smiling at whatever she'd said and getting a high pitched laugh in return.

"He's in for a surprise when he gets her naked," Hap recognized Juice's voice as the other man sat beside him on the sofa. "She pads her bra."

He didn't really find it that funny, but Hap chuckled anyway. It hurt the hell out of his mending ribs, which somehow just made him laugh harder. Juice snorted. "I'm serious, man. I got her shirt off and goddamn…talk about false advertising."

Happy knocked him on the arm. He really did like Juice; unobtrusive, eager to please. As their laughter faded, he felt like an asshole for wanting to smash his teeth in.

"You doing okay, man?" Juice asked, becoming serious. "I mean…with everything. You alright?"

His eyes were wide, questioning. Hap realized he was the first person to really ask him that. The others had nodded him back in, going on as if nothing had happened. Only Chibs had been distant. But no one had inquired about him. And he knew Juice wasn't just talking about the bumps and bruises.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm good."

Juice looked like he wanted say something more, but shrugged.

A Crow Eater brought them beers and Hap didn't miss the careful way she leaned forward to hand over the bottles, the way she pushed her breasts together with her elbows. Her eyes cut over to his and she smiled. She was dirty blond, not pretty, just generically pleasing to the eye. Her jeans fit well.

Happy tipped his head at Juice and he took the cue with a nod and a sigh. He clapped him on the shoulder as he stood to leave. "It'll get better," he offered almost sadly.

As Hap watched the girl slide into place on the couch, he knew it would get easier, but not better. There was no better.

**-O-**

The next morning, Ava sat on the lowered tailgate of her truck, hugging her bag to her chest, jiggling one booted foot up and down. Maggie had told her to wear her biker boots – make her feel tougher for her meeting, she'd said. Now, though, the decorative chains around the ankles were just making a lot of noise and furthering her nervousness.

The parking lot started to fill; Hondas, beat up Volvos and pickup trucks. The odd muscle car here and there. She earned a few curious glances from students, but was left alone for the most part. Caroline found her ten minutes before her meeting was supposed to occur.

"Don't tell me you're nervous," she said, leaning back against the lowered tailgate. "If she didn't expel you, Sharp doesn't have anything."

"That's not really what's bothering me," Ava sighed, pulling one foot up and holding her boot around the ankle.

Caroline raised her brows expectantly.

"I don't want to face everyone," she admitted, ashamed. "I caught hell before…but now, after what happened…"

Her friend toyed with a white streak of her hair. "Don't be overdramatic. So they hate you, we hate them, right?"

Ava nodded.

"C'mon. Do your thing and I'll see you in Biology."

**-O-**

The meeting with Mrs. Sharp was tense, but short, the principal obviously peeved. She kept sniffing like she had a cold, adjusting her glasses, her mouth curled up like she'd been sucking on a lemon. But after a stern warning that violence would _not _be tolerated at her school, Sharp sent her off with one last dirty look.

Now Ava was in her lit class, sitting in her usual wall seat under the window, enjoying the calm and gardenia smell that was Mrs. Hagan's classroom. Stephanie Simms, one of Jenny's cohorts, was sitting two rows up and had looked over her shoulder several times to glare at her. Ava stared back without blinking and the other girl caved, eyes wide. Gym would be hell and she had Calculus with Richie Grant, but she wasn't going to let anyone ruin lit for her.

It was an enjoyable class; a chance to let the real world slip away and examine the tragic, wondrous lives of others. She loved the challenge of finding the mechanics behind the beauty of the words. Could envision Hardy's heath and Dickens' London, went flying through centuries and countries and found a fascination in dissecting the way writers' minds worked. Reading between the printed lines was like watching Tig's eyes shift around the room and wondering what was going on in that sick head of his. Or noticing the way Gemma swirled the last swallow of wine around in the bottom of her glass when she was pissed with Clay. Details. It was always about the details. And an understanding of the over arcing ties that bound all those details together.

Mrs. Hagan was at the front of the class, walking slow circles in front of the whiteboard, a worn copy of _Wuthering Heights _open between her palms. Ava loved that about her; she didn't use a hulking text book for herself, but brought in her own volumes for class discussion. She looked like a hippy who hadn't realized that the sixties had ended forty years ago; her prairie skirt and sandals, dark hair down to the middle of her back. She was eccentric and quirky and had a collection of snow globes on one shelf from just about every state in the country. A pair of love birds that warbled from their corner cage.

"Many critics," Mrs. Hagan said, her pacing bring her back to the center of the room ", believe Heathcliff to be a Byronic hero – the traits of which were exemplified by the characters of Lord Byron. They are perceptive, cunning, readily adaptable to any environment."

Ava perked up in her chair, the teacher's explanation striking a chord in her.

"Byronic heroes often suffer from troubled pasts. There's always some unnamed crime that's a part of their back story." Mrs. Hagan closed her book, marking the place with her finger. Her eyes got that wild light in them like they always did when she became excited about their topic. "These are the anti-heroes, the dark ones. Mysterious, powerful both socially and sexually; these are the characters we love even while they shun society and privilege. Heathcliff is a Byronic hero – he's the consummate _outlaw._"

"He's a jerk," Rachel Mason said with a snort.

Mrs. Hagan perched on the edge of her stool, book cradled loosely against her chest. "A jerk," she said with a tiny smile. "Please explain, Rachel."

The girl shrugged and Ava wanted to laugh at the matter-of-fact lift to her chin. "Well, he's all angry and mean. He abuses his wife. We talked all last week about how he 'loved' Catherine, but he was a jerk to her. To everybody. That's not a hero."

"Fair enough," Mrs. Hagan nodded. She scanned the room. "Rebuttal?"

Ava rarely contributed to class discussion. She didn't like arguing with some of the more stubborn, but simplistic ideas of the other students. Her papers were always passed back with As and little scribbled notes about Mrs. Hagan wishing she would share her thoughts with the class. Ordinarily, she didn't feel compelled. She didn't like to be the center of attention. But she couldn't seem to help it today as her hand crept into the air. That Byronic hero stuff was rattling around in her head and setting off all sorts of alarms.

Mrs. Hagan's smile widened when she noticed her. "Ava. You have an argument?"

All eyes snapped to her and she forced herself to focus on the teacher, tuning out the others. "Well, not so much an argument as a comment. I mean, sure, Heathcliff is violent and dark, twisted…all those things you mentioned. But he does love Catherine. It's not romantic, and it isn't even pleasant. But there's a passion there." Mrs. Hagan nodded just the tiniest bit and her confidence swelled. The other students were watching her still and she met a few sets of eyes, Stephanie's in particular.

"Heathcliff is wild," she continued. "He lives in anger and violence and reaction, and he keeps that with him all the time. What he feels for Catherine is just as reckless and dark as what he feels for the rest of the world. It's this desperate, intense need, like an addiction almost. He doesn't understand it even, and eventually, it drives him insane."

Mrs. Hagan's grin was small and crooked and very pleased. "So he has trouble separating something like romantic love from the rest of his dark nature."

Ava nodded. "A person can't compartmentalize like that. To say he's an impassioned man doesn't mean he's a sweet man, or even _passionate _like you'd associate with a romance novel. His emotions are extreme, even those he has for Catherine."

"Do you believe there's a love story then, in the midst of all this gothic drama?"

"I do." Some of the other students looked disbelieving and Ava felt a smile threaten. "Loving an outlaw isn't like getting stuck in _The Notebook_. It's dark. Gothic even."

Mrs. Hagan nodded once, eyes shining. "Very good."

**-O-**

Carter was lacing up his Nikes when he heard the gym locker beside him slam shut. He glanced up and saw Richie running his hands through his hair, face already glittering with sweat. They had just changed out and hadn't even started class yet. "You okay, Rich?"

"Fuck no. Do I fucking look okay?"

"Well, you look like shit, but I thought I'd ask."

Richie shook his head and slumped down on the bench, arms limp and breathing hard. "I still can't believe it, you know?" He tensed suddenly and kicked at the lockers, the metal barking like a gun shot. "I can't believe she _did that_."

Carter sighed. "Are you still on that kick? Get over it, man. I'm tired of your conspiracy theory bullshit."

The face Richie turned to him was twisted, angry. One he didn't recognize. "That little bitch got Coach fired, Carter. She busted up my girlfriend's face! Don't you get it, man?" He leapt to his feet, cords popping in his neck, face going red. "The Sons are trying to fuck us over."

Carter rolled his eyes. "No they're not. Shit, Rich, come on. They don't care about us. This is just you being paranoid."

"Paranoid?" he leaned into his face. His breath was rank. "I'm tired of hearing you defend that little whore just 'cause she gave you some good head."

Carter shoved him back. "It's not Ava's fault that your dumb ass got sucked into Byers' shit. I _told you_ to leave the drugs alone."

Richie stumbled backwards, sitting hard when his knees hit the edge of the bench. "You're gonna defend her?"

"No, I'm gonna tell your junkie ass to get cleaned up. How long did you think this could last? You're gonna get arrested and I'm not gonna bail you out this time." Carter shook his head.

"You're unbelievable. You're supposed to be my friend!"

"You're gonna get the whole team thrown out of the running for state if you don't quit using, _friend_."

Carter hadn't realized how bad Richie had gotten. He'd seen him popping pills at camp, had warned him off but figured it was recreational. But this…this was bad. This was full blown addiction. And it could stand to get the whole team in trouble. "Look," he softened his tone. "It sucks about Coach. Really. But you gotta get over this thing about Ava, Rich. She didn't get him fired."

"Yes she did."

"How?"

"Coach told me, he said…" he trailed off, eyes darting around.

Carter sighed. "You need help, dude." He patted him on the shoulder as he left. "Maybe you should cut out, get some rest or something."

Richie didn't respond.

**-O-**

It had been nice to get back into the rhythm of the day. Happy had been thankful for the calm of the garage; the routine of tools and grease and whining air wrenches. Working on cars was very Zen, worked your hands and your mind just enough to let the distractions slip away, but wasn't tricky. Didn't get you all tripped up and confused. He knew cars. He was good with cars.

Under the hood, checking fluid levels, he almost missed Juice casually ask Chibs how Ava's hearing with the school board had gone. He paused, waiting for the reply.

"She didn't have one," Chibs said, sounding baffled. "Principal changed her mind I guess. She's back in school."

Hap grinned to himself. The visit to Fisher had paid off. And the photo he'd snapped of the coach had obviously made its way into the right hands. He'd done right by his girl, he'd –

He shut his brain down fast. Thinking like that had gotten the shit beat out of him. And worse than that, had lost him the trust of his brothers. He shook his head. He had to redraw the lines. Ava was Chibs' kid, not _his girl. _He returned his attention to the car.

**-O-**

All in all, it had been an okay day. Ava let out a breath it felt like she'd been holding all day as she walked out of the double doors that afternoon. Jenny had shot her hateful looks across the cafeteria at lunch, but no one had approached her. She'd heard the whispers, but no one had dared say anything to her face. She wondered idly if this was how Gemma and her mother felt at the grocery store.

Caroline sighed dramatically beside her.

"What?"

"I can't find my cell. Damnit…I know I had it before gym."

"Your purse is so full of crap, who could tell?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ha ha. Ooh, hey, did you hear Byers got fired?"

**-O-**

Richie watched them walk out, the bitch and her little Asian hooker-looking friend. In his pocket, he ran sweaty fingers over the cell phone he's snitched. It would come in handy later.

**-O-**

"So?" Maggie propped her boots up on the desk. "How was the first day back?"

Ava sat heavily across from her. She'd been sitting all day but was tired. "It was okay."

"Did you hit anyone?"

She grinned. "No, not today. Stephanie Simms was giving me the stink eye though. She might be my next victim."

Maggie chuckled. "Yeah. Just make sure it's not school related." She leaned over and tapped at her keyboard with one hand, looking disinterestedly at the screen. "Are you okay…with everything else?"

Ava let her head fall back and to the side so she was looking out the window at the parking lot. She sighed. "Not really. But what am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing, sweetie."

"It just…" Hap stepped out of the garage. There were still fading bruises on his face. Her chest physically ached watching him walk toward the office. "It hurts," she said softly. "It hurts bad."

Maggie didn't respond.

He came all the way to the office and Ava wondered if he knew she was in there. She supposed there was no reason for him to be worried about it; he'd made their separation clear. Hell, the whole rest of the club had made it clear. She didn't feel nervous when he leaned in the doorway. Her heart didn't speed up.

"Done with the Chrysler," he told Maggie, flipping her the keys.

Ava watched him openly, not even trying to be covert. It had only been a week but she missed him. Because now, not only could she not touch him, feel him, hear his rough whispers in her ear…but she couldn't split a stolen beer with him after his shift ended. He didn't ruffle her hair. Didn't help her pick on the Prospect. It was as if they were strangers, or, worse yet, casual acquaintances. All their history felt erased, rubbed out by the disapproving looks of Jax and her father. And she missed the hell out of him.

He spared her a fast look on his way out and rapped the door in acknowledgement. "Hey, kid."

"Hey."

When he was gone, she heard Maggie sigh. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

**TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

Wednesday after school, Ava was again manning the shredder, feeding old paperwork into the machine and drowning out the noise with her iPod. She felt her phone vibrating in her back pocket and wrestled it out. She had a text from Caroline.

_Whassup? Meet me 2nite?_

Ava frowned and switched off her iPod, pausing Ludacris mid-rhyme. _You found your phone? _she typed back.

_Yep. Bottom of my purse. Duh! _

_The purse you had today?_

_Yeah, I'm a dumbass. Feel free to make fun._

Ava grinned.

"Caroline find her phone?" Maggie asked from the desk.

"I have other friends, you know."

"So I take it she did."

"Yeah," Ava sighed. "I'm a loser. She wants to meet."

"Where?"

"Dunno." She texted back the question.

_Nikki's at 6:00?_

_Sure._

"I'm gonna have dinner with her," she told Maggie. "Is that cool?"

Her mom nodded, smiling. "Yeah. It'll be good. I'm tired of watching you mope."

"Mom," she sighed. "Get used to the moping."

**-O-**

"Hap, man, I'm real sorry," Tux apologized for the fifteenth time.

Happy grimaced as he ditched his T-M shirt to the pavement. "Don't pour the new oil in until I _replace _the fuckin' plug," he said dryly, frowning at the black splash of oil across the front of his wifebeater. The stuff reeked. The fabric clung to his skin, greasy and heavy. He peeled the under shirt off and dropped it to the ground too.

"Garbage," he said pointing to the ruined clothing. "And bring me a fresh one."

Tux sighed. "Got it. Really though -,"

"You're sorry, I get it. Go." Happy left him to it and headed for the hose hooked up along the side of the garage. He was leaned over, trying to rinse some of the residue off his chest when he noticed a familiar pair of black boots standing in front of him. And all the way up those long legs, Ava was pulling a decent poker face, only one corner of her mouth twitching.

The moment caught him so totally off guard that he couldn't help it. She looked cute, like she was struggling to hold in a laugh, eyes dancing, not half as miserable as she'd been the past week. Hap smiled. "What?"

"The Prospect didn't wait till you got the plug back in, did he?"

He shook his head. "Little shit." He could see her watching him as he shut off the water and coiled the hose up, knew the look in her eye. She wasn't old and experienced enough to be coy; the wanting was plain on her face, clear as day. He wondered if anyone else was watching and could see that on her. Or maybe he could read her better than the others. Maybe he knew her better than anyone else.

"Ava!" Chibs called loudly from inside the garage. Happy glanced over the girl's shoulder and met the Scot's flat stare. _Fuck you. _"You got the paperwork, luv?"

"Yeah," she waved the folder in her hand. "I'm coming."

She gave him a last regretful look and Hap nodded her off, liking the way the sun turned her hair to high-shine mahogany. Chibs put an arm around her when she joined him, guiding her into the garage and out of sight.

It didn't really make him angry – it would take something far more dramatic to get that emotion out of him, but aggravation ran like electricity over his nerve endings. He was the bad guy now; the one Chibs wanted Ava to stay away from. The days were wearing on and his promise to Jax was starting to really take meaning. He wasn't mad…yet.

**-O-**

Ava was glad for the distraction of meeting Caroline. Every time she so much as blinked, she saw Hap with the hose; water droplets crystal in the sunlight, the mess of purple bruises under his black ink, the roll of muscle…

She shook her head as she climbed into her truck. Yeah. Dinner was going to be a good distraction.

It was a short drive into town proper and she found a parking spot in front of the salon. It was already dark as she crossed the street to Nikki's Café, headlights bright across glass store fronts. Caroline wasn't there yet, so she took their normal patio table and waited.

It was a cool, but humid evening. The air smelled suspiciously of rain. This had so far been one of the wettest seasons on record in northern Cali. Systems coming in off the coast were in the habit of lingering, dumping rain on the valley for days or weeks on end. It was fitting; seemed to go with her mood as of late.

Ava hung around for ten minutes, scanning the sidewalks, tapping her toe under the table. Nikki's was about to close the kitchen and Caroline still hadn't shown up. She pulled out her phone and started dialing.

**-O-**

Carter was walking off the field after practice, the sweat and the harsh glare of the floodlights stinging his eyes, when he noticed movement in the shadow of the concession stand. Assistant Coach Crane had put them through suicides until he was ready to puke or pass out, but he wasn't so delirious that he was seeing things. He hoisted his duffel up higher on his shoulder and stepped closer to the building, the dark shapes taking form.

"Rich?" he asked, surprised when he recognized his friend.

Richie and two other guys were leaned back against the cinderblock wall. One girl, Jenny going by the flash of white across her nose, stood with them.

"Richie?" Carter asked again, stepping closer. "What're you doing? You missed practice."

The whites of his eyes glowed in the shadows. "Mind your own business, Carter."

One of the other guys stepped forward and Carter recognized Eric, one of the angry too-cool-for-school jerk-offs who smoked in the bathroom during lunch. His buddy, whats his face with the goth hair and bull ring in his nose, had one combat boot propped on the wall, head tilted in challenge like a dog's. Carter was struck with the sudden thought that he didn't know his friend Richie at all.

"Guys -,"

He was cut off by a phone ringing. Jenny pulled a glowing Blackberry from somewhere. "It's her," she said quietly. "What do you want me to say?"

"Say what we talked about, baby," Richie spoke as if to a child. "Just remember to do that thing with your voice."

"What's going on?" Carter took another step and Eric moved, just a fraction, to block Richie.

Jenny put the phone to her ear. "H-h-hello?" she asked, breathy and trembling, voice high as if she were frightened…or in pain.

_What the fuck?_

"Ava…Ava, please…they…you have to help me…"

Carter's stomach dropped. "Oh, God," he whispered. "Oh, shit, what are you doing?" He lunged forward and Eric hit him hard as a linebacker, knocking him on his ass. He skidded backward across the turf, rolling over once, and then a boot landed on his windpipe.

"Get lost," Eric said. "Or I'll kill your ass."

Carter pawed at the other guy's boot. A jagged streak of lightening cracked overhead, backlighting the thug and making him look ten feet tall. "What are you guys doing with Ava?" he asked, feeling desperate. "She hasn't done shit to anyone."

Eric pulled his boot away and then kicked him in the ribs. Carter had never been more thankful for football pads. "Get out of here, or get your ass kicked. Pick one."

His mind was racing. Nothing Jenny and tripped-out Richie were up to was good for Ava. And seeing these two goons he was hanging with tonight…he'd misjudged his friend all along. He'd thought it was just guy stuff. Frustrations. But he'd been wrong.

"I'll go, I'll go," he said quickly. "Let me up."

Eric backed away. "If you tell anyone -,"

"I won't," he assured, scrambling to his feet. "I swear."

Eric took another step back and Carter ran, without looking back. He could see the street lamp glinting off the hood of his Mustang and he pounded the pavement towards it. He had to get to Teller-Morrow.

**-O-**

"Beer?" Maggie asked, leaning over Chibs' shoulder and dangling a Budweiser in front of him. She wrapped her free arm loosely around his neck and put her lips to his temple. "Or dessert?"

He chuckled. "How 'bout both at once?"

"Now that," she laughed and nipped at his ear. "Would be a good trick."

"I could pull it off," he insisted. "Come around here and I'll show you."

"Yeah, I'll bet…"

The doorbell rang and Maggie groaned. "Seriously?" She set his beer on the table and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Doesn't everybody know I'm still getting caught up on makeup sex? I'll be back, baby."

"You better hurry, woman."

She snorted as she rounded the corner towards the door. No one they knew ever used the doorbell, which hopefully meant it was a kid selling something and she could get rid of him quickly. She wasn't expecting to find Caroline Kim on her doorstep.

"Hey, Caro," Maggie glanced out over her shoulder. "Where's Ava?"

The girl frowned. "I came to see her."

Maggie frowned too. "But…she met you at Nikki's…"

Caroline shook her head. "No. I haven't seen her since school this afternoon."

Maggie's pulse started speeding up slowly, as if her heart faltered and then kick-started again, blood pounding in her ears. "But you found your phone and you called her…"

Caroline was starting to look worried too. "No. It's still missing."

Maggie felt flushed, hot all over. She took a step back. "Come in," she told the girl, heading back to the kitchen. "Baby?"

Chibs' smile faded when he turned around. "What is it?"

"Ava…she didn't meet Caroline…but shit, I was there when she got the text." She shook her head.

"Well, maybe she -,"

"No. If she wasn't with her friend, there's only one other person she'd go to."

Chibs scowled. "That asshole."

"Calm down. Just call him and ask. He may have seen her."

"Oh, like hell -,"

"Chibs," Maggie snapped. "I'm about to panic, okay? Call Hap and be nice about it, goddamnit."

**-O-**

Ava's heart was racing as she pulled into the school lot. She kept hearing Caroline's strained voice. _Please. They'll hear the cops. They'll hear the motorcycles. Just come. Please. Help me._

The campus looked different at night, sinister, the familiar landscape distorted with shadows. _The equipment shed…by the field…_She parked around the side of the main building, in the bus lanes, under the shade of the rain canopy. Her hands were shaking and clammy as she switched off the dome light and put her phone on silent mode. She slipped her cell and her dad's bone handled knife in the interior pockets of her riding jacket. She checked the zippers on her boots, scraped her hair into a ponytail with an elastic she found in the cupholder.

When she'd called Caroline to see why she was running late, she'd been greeted by the whispered, pained cries of distress and a cryptic message about getting jumped by Carter Michaels at the school. Then there'd been a rushing as the phone was yanked away, the heavy sound of male laughter, and then the phone had died with a crackle of static and breaking plastic.

She was scared, she wouldn't deny that. But there was an adrenaline rush too, a worry so frantic it was almost excitement. And though a voice in the back of her mind screamed for her to call in reinforcements, she kept remembering Caroline's insistence that she'd be killed…or worse…if Carter caught wind of anyone else. And if it was just that pussy; she could take him.

Ava closed her eyes and pulled in several deep breaths. She thought about school, about her future, about the streak of luck Monday morning with the principal. And in the end, worry for her friend won out over everything logical. She's seen what could happen when cops got involved and suspects spooked. People's brains ended up spattered against walls.

With quivering hands, but steady purpose, she climbed out of the truck and closed the door soundlessly.

It was nearly a quarter mile to the edge of the parking lot, the long way around the stadium bleachers, and to the equipment shed on the edge of the property. Ava moved low and fast, staying in the shadows. She paused every few yards and held her breath, straining to hear signs of life. A dove cooed. A twig snapped somewhere. But no one showed his face.

When she reached the end of the bleachers, she lingered in the last scrap of shadow. The shed was a good two hundred feet away, the grass dark under a cloud filled sky. Lightening licked across overhead, bright white and turning the world to daytime for a fraction of a second.

And in that second, she saw someone standing between her and the shed.

Her hand went for the inside of her jacket as arms came around her waist and she was tackled to the ground.

**-O-**

Hap leaned low over the table and lined up his next shot. He had a perfect bead on the solid six and pulled the cue between his thumb and forefinger, one eye closed, concentrated.

His phone rang and his shot went wild, the cue ball bouncing off the felt and not connecting with anything. "Fuck," he grumbled, pulling the cell out of his pocket.

Juice laughed across the table and moved into position. "Sucks for you, man."

"Yeah, yeah." He checked the ID display and recognized Chibs' number. "What?" he answered, instantly on edge. This had the potential to be very not good.

"You seen Ava?" the VP asked without preamble. He sounded pissed.

"No."

Juice glanced up, curious and not good at hiding it.

Chibs sighed on the other end. "If she's with you, just admit it, cause we can't find her and her mum's goin' insane."

His breath left him in a rush and he struggled to keep his tone casual. "Nah. She ain't with me."

"If you're lyin' -,"

"Why would I lie about that?" Hap heard his voice get low and hard. "Don't you think that would freak me the fuck out if she was missing?"

Chibs was silent a moment. "Well, she's missin'," he said quietly. The phone went dead.

"What was that about?" Juice asked.

Happy pocketed his phone and rubbed a hand across his scalp. "They can't find Ava."

Tig overheard as he walked out from behind the bar and made the vocal equivalent of a shrug. "So? Probably went to a kegger with a bunch of other dumbass kids. She'll show up in the morning."

Hap shook his head. "No. She's not like that."

Tig snorted. "Every kid's like that."

"No. She's not."

"Hey, guys," Juice stepped between them. "How 'bout we _don't _get upset, okay?"

Tig shrugged. "I'm not upset. 'Course, I'm not the one with wet dreams about a stupid goddamn teenager."

Happy started to lunge, thought about breaking Juice's arm to get him out of the way, but froze when Tig's face changed. The other man was looking towards the door. "What the hell?"

Hap whipped around. Pretty Boy who Ava tutored was standing in the open doorway, one hand braced on the knob, breathing like he'd just run a marathon. He was in a soaked t-shirt and football pants, hair a matted mess.

"Isn't that…?" Juice started.

"That kid," Tig snorted.

Hap moved towards him and the kid held up his hands, eyes wide. "Whoa, dude, please. I didn't mean to bust in…but…it's Ava. I think someone's gonna try to hurt her."

**-O-**

There were three of them. Big, muscled, faceless shadows that wrestled her onto the grass. Fast, stinging rain drops started to fall, thunder rolled, as they twisted Ava's arms behind her back and then hauled her to her feet. She kicked, fought, struggled, screamed, but still they drug her to the shed.

There were flickering fluorescent lights on, shooting weird shadows through the little metal building. They pulled her in, past the racks of footballs and dodge balls, the riding mower and garden hoses.

Ava kept trying to slow her breathing, but each breath was shallower than the last, her raging pulse was thumping in her eyelids, making it hard to see. Her shoulders protested at the strange angle. Sweaty hands clasped her wrists together. She locked her legs and tried to dig her heels into the concrete floor, but she just got pushed along, the rattle of the chains on her ankles echoing loudly.

"Back off, this is me," a voice hissed. Richie. It was Richie Grant.

Hands released her arms and then it was only Richie who held her wrists behind her back. He kept walking her forward towards an empty stretch of wall. She was trying to do the wild math in her head, even as she began to panic at the idea of what would happen when he got her up against that wall. Richie and two others – could have been Carter, could have been any number of his teammates.

"This your idea, Richie? Your brilliant plan?" she hissed, trying to keep the stress out of her voice.

He shoved her hard and she stumbled. "Shut up, bitch."

Ava twisted her neck and caught sight of a girl in the corner. Blond. Nice clothes. Bandage across the bridge of her nose. "It was Jenny," she choked. "I called and she pretended to be -,"

"Shut up!" he roared. He threw her the rest of the way and she slammed into the corrugated metal wall, head ringing with the impact. His hands found her wrists again instantly and cranked her arms back hard, making her squeal against the pressure.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God…_she closed her eyes and went still, nauseas as he held her hands with one of his and reached the other around to her stomach. He pawed roughly at her breasts, pushed at the hem of her shirt.

"You," his breath was hot on the back of her neck. "Are a biker whore who needs to learn her place." His laughter was high pitched and insane. "I think I can teach you that."

Ava felt so, so stupid. She'd let herself get lured out here by some dumbass punks. Let herself get jumped behind the bleachers. And now this drugged out asshole would tear her jeans down her hips and force himself on her. It would hurt and it would defile her, dirty her. The feel of his mouth on her neck and his hands on her belly had her squirming under her skin, gritting her teeth, breathing hard.

She thought of Happy. Oh, God, she wanted Happy. He would pull this rat off of her, take away the terrible thing that was about to happen. _See? Just like that and you'd be dead. _God, he'd been right. She was just a stupid, weak girl without a prayer of –

She froze, pulse slowing to a crawl. Even Richie's movements seemed to be in slow-mo as she recalled with crystal clarity her afternoon knife lesson with Happy. The way he'd taught her to dance with it, to use it without fear or risk of it being taken. How to use her opponent's weaknesses against them.

She thought about having him in her bed, about the unfairness of their separation, and drew strength from it. She closed her eyes and pictured his face. Remembered his voice. And thought about what Hap would do if he were here. Then she waited.

And Richie moved as if according to script. He widened his stance as he leaned into her and his hand flattened over the button of her jeans. Ava turned her face away from the wall and pushed her hips forward, pinning his hand against the metal.

"Hey!" he yelped at the distraction, and she brought her leg up in one swift motion, catching him in the balls with the wooden heel of her boot.

Richie let out a strangled sound and one of his hands fell away. It wasn't much of an opportunity, but it was enough. Ava dropped to her knees and spun. She found the hilt of the knife in her jacket as she went, and as she twisted and found him stunned and clutching his jewels, her arm flashed. One quick punch, in and out, and she stabbed him in the thigh.

He screamed, high-pitched and inhuman, and crumpled to his knees. Ava felt her stomach roll at the quiet little sound his skin made as the steel broke through. But she didn't have long to dwell on that as he made a wild-eyed, growling lunge towards her. He had his own blood on his hands. His face looked pasty and slick in the flickering light. He was deranged.

Ava ducked his move and struck again, this time catching him between his ribs with the knife.

Blood ran over her stabbing hand and she scooted back, flattening herself to the wall. Her heart thundered in her chest as she watched Richie try to struggle away, only to curl up on his side on the concrete.

She wasn't afforded the chance to wonder if she'd inflicting mortal damage because Eric Lassiter came charging towards her. Jenny screamed, presumably about Richie, and Ava managed only a staggered step before he tackled her.

She tried to twist away, but he managed to turn her knife back on her as they rolled across the concrete. Her head bumped hard on the floor, his knee pressed down on her ribs until she felt something pop, and then her knife bit into her forearm, puncturing her jacket and biting into her skin.

She couldn't stop her scream. And though she fought, Eric was too strong and he ended up on top of her, pinning her arms to either side of her head. Her knife clattered to the floor and staring up at his flat, mean eyes, Ava knew she couldn't get out of this one.

"Fucking cunt," he spit on her and she turned her face away, angry tears burning the backs of her eyes. "I oughta -,"

Whatever he'd been about to say was drowned out by the sharp crack of a gunshot. And a half second later, Eric was tumbling off of her.

Ava scrambled to a crouch, holding her ribs with one hand, biting back her cry of pain, and turned towards the door. She nearly fainted. Happy was holstering his gun as he walked towards her. She'd never seen his face so hard, his eyes so focused and black. Over his shoulder, she saw Tig just inside the doorway, holding the third assailant by the collar.

"Hap…" she tried and failed to say anything. He put his hands on her waist and picked her up to a standing position, immediately finding the blood all over her arm. "It's okay," she assured, voice shaking badly. She was still holding her ribs and he palmed the sore area, pressing lightly. She gasped.

"What was it?"

"His knee," she shook her head. "I don't think anything's broken."

Hap's eyes…God, she couldn't get over that look in them. He brushed her hair back, touched her face; examining, checking for injury. When he seemed satisfied for the moment, he moved her gently aside and crouched beside Eric. The little thug was curled up in the fetal position, breathing through his teeth, one hand clenched tightly over his shoulder.

"Shoulder shot," Hap said lightly, standing again. "He'll live."

Then he glanced over at Richie, lip curling. "This him?" he asked. "Richie?"

Ava nodded and sucked in a deep, painful breath. "That's him."

**-O-**

From the doorway, Carter watched as if in a trance. Once he'd caught sight of Ava, all bloody and holding her middle like she hurt, he'd completely forgotten about the mean-faced guy with the kinky hair beside him. The other guy, the terrifying one, crouched down in front of Richie, head cocked to the side like a wolf about to pounce.

Richie crab-walked backward until he hit the wall. He was pale. Bloody all over. Carter hardly recognized him. The Son said something that was just a murmur and Richie shivered all over, head kicking back against the metal. "No…no, man…please…I didn't mean…"

"Ava," the Son said. His raspy voice was calm. It raised the fine hairs on the back of Richie's neck, reminding him of that careful, quiet way Hannibal Lecter spoke in those sick movies. "C'mere, baby."

_Baby. _Carter flashed to that night outside Nikki's when Ava had told them her boyfriend would 'slit their throats ear to ear'. Oh shit. _This _was the boyfriend.

Ava approached him slowly, hand still on her side, but with that same calm he had; a comfort that was second nature. She put her hands on his leather-clad shoulders, then leaned forward and circled them around his neck, her cheek against his temple.

"What should we do with him?" he asked. He looked, Carter realized with a jolt, like he was smiling.

Ava was wide-eyed, almost spaced out. "I hate him," she said softly.

"I know." And then the guy reached for the knife strapped to his hip.

**-O-**

Chibs had this dreadful sense of déjà vu as he ran through the shadows behind the bleachers. Eighteen years ago, he'd come to this same field to keep Jax from getting his ass stomped. Now the seventeen-year-old in trouble was his daughter.

Juice had been quick and sketchy with the details, just that Ava had been lured out here by some shithead kid. And that Hap and Tig were already on their way. The rain was falling fast and steady by the time he reached the open door of the equipment shed, lightening tearing open the night overhead. He was damn near crazed at that point and shoved the blond kid out of the way. Tig held another little shit by the collar and was watching something intently.

He threw out a hand, blocking him. "Hold up a sec," Tig whispered. "Hap's got it."

**-O-**

As the adrenaline bled out of her system, Ava started to shake, so hard that her teeth were chattering. She knew Hap had to feel it. She was so glad for him, nearly in tears at the relief of having her arms around his neck. Her head pounded where it had impacted the concrete. And the pain in her ribs was spreading, making her whole body ache. Hap had to know that she was lying on him, holding herself up, but going by the wild light in Richie's eyes, he was seeing a completely different picture.

She heard the scrape of metal on leather as Happy unsheathed his knife. He twirled the blade, the harsh light scattered across its edge. "Where do you want me to start?" he asked her quietly. But the depth of his voice and the smallness of the shed…the sound carried. Jenny was hugging her knees in the corner and squealed at his words.

Happy placed the very tip of the blade on the inseam of Richie's jeans, right at the knee. The kid convulsed and tried to back away. "Moving? Not smart, dumbass." Richie froze again, mouth open wide, breath wheezing in and out.

Hap started sliding the knife upwards, passing over the crimson stain from his thigh wound. "How high?"

With her father, or Jax, or Juice, Ava would have been confident in the game. But with Hap, she wasn't so sure it was a game at all. "All the way," she said quietly.

He moved the knife up so that the tip was poised above Richie's fly. "Kinda hard to rape somebody without a dick," he chuckled.

Richie promptly passed out.

Ava tightened her grip around his neck as she became dizzy. "He's not worth jail time," she said. She slid down, fighting her own body, and her lips were in line with his ear. "You got here in time," she whispered. "Don't get in trouble for this. Please, Hap. I couldn't stand that."

He pressed the knife down lightly. "They were gonna do it. Take turns. If I hadn't -,"

"But you did. And it's okay." She was starting to feel desperate and a little sick, the weight of what had almost happened starting to pull at her. "What did Clay say? No bodies in Charming, right?"

It was quiet a moment. She could hear Eric moaning and Jenny sobbing. The rain pounded hard on the tin roof.

Very slowly, as if it were painful, Hap sheathed his knife. Ava stood when she felt his shoulders roll and wasn't ready when her knees buckled. Happy was, and caught her against his chest, holding her upright with both arms around her waist. With her head resting under his chin, exhausted, sore, she glanced towards the doorway. Carter was there, and Tig was holding up the third goon – who may have been unconscious – and then there was Chibs.

She couldn't name the emotion all over her dad's face, and wasn't sure she wanted to. But she didn't care. As she leaned into Happy, she didn't care at all.

**TBC**


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Big props to anyone who picked up on the "random" **_**Wuthering Heights **_**reference( katbrown88) from the chapter before last. You will see that crap again! **

**And thanks to my lovely, usual suspects. You gals are wonderful. **

Hale narrowed his eyes at the blond kid in front of him. "And you're sure you don't know where the gun came from?"

Carter Michaels shrugged and pulled a hand through his sweaty hair. "It's like I said, Chief; Matt and Eric were arguing about whether or not they should stay and help Richie. Once Ava got Rich's knife away from him, Matt didn't want any part of that."

"And he shot…" he checked his memo pad ", Eric?"

"They're all tripping on something. I don't know what."

Hale nodded to his deputy and took the plastic evidence baggie containing the knife. "And this is the knife?" he asked, holding up the black switchblade.

The kid nodded emphatically. "That's it. I saw just as I came in that Rich had it out and was going after Ava. She had some killer moves, getting it off him like that."

"Uh huh," Hale said with a frown. "And I wonder where she learned that trick."

Carter shrugged again. "Dunno. Some girls go to cheer camp…some…don't."

Yeah, more like MC fight camp. So much of this story felt bogus to Hale. But he couldn't deny the facts in front of him. One stabbed, potential rapist and two knife wounds; one punk with a GSW; one Smith & Wesson .45, with – guess what – no serials; and one unconscious kid and a football player in front of him with bloody knuckles. The three perps were on their way to St. Thomas and hadn't been able to give a statement yet. And here was the conquering hero in his football gear and looking like a lost lamb. Ava was gone; ushered off by her parents as he'd arrived on scene. And somehow, this whole thing stank of SOA.

"Do you have any more questions, Chief?"

"No," Hale said, disgusted. "Get outta here. I'll have someone collect your official statement tomorrow."

**-O-**

Hap almost smiled when he watched Hale wave the kid off. Little Pretty Boy had done well – with the entire scenario no less. He checked over his shoulder and headed towards the parking lot, but cut across at the last moment and slipped into the shadow of the bleachers.

"He said -,"

"Yeah, I heard," Happy interrupted. Carter jumped, hand going to his heart. "Relax, kid. You did good."

"Really?" he still had that scared puppy tremor to his voice. "So does that mean you're not gonna try to throttle me this time?" The whites of his eyes shone in the dark. "I…um….I know what you were gonna do to Rich."

Happy was silent.

"And…I don't like it or anything, but…I understand why you felt that way."

Again, Hap didn't respond.

Carter's feet shuffled around on the wet turf; the rain had eased up for the moment, though lightening still flickered. "He didn't use to be like that. Richie," he explained. "He was funny. He used to be a nice guy, before the drugs."

"Don't care."

"Yeah. Okay." The kid's shadow moved around. "I guess I'll just go then. The Chief believed me I think. He wants to talk to Ava, but maybe it can wait till morning. Night." He threw up a half hearted wave as he headed off.

"Hey, kid," Hap called.

He turned.

"I appreciate what you did tonight. For Ava. I won't forget that."

"I had to, didn't I?" he sounded almost sad. "You're lucky, man," he said over his shoulder, walking off as drizzle started to fall.

**-O-**

The bright overhead light kept weaving as faces bobbed over hers. Juice. Opie. Jax. Her dad. Her mom. Ava closed her eyes, queasy with all the revolving heads and lights. And not only was it not bad enough that her shirt was pulled up so the whole world could tell what color her bra was, but Tara was kneading her belly like dough, her hands smooth and cool and very doctor-like.

"Guys," Tara said firmly. "Can we give her some space, please?"

All the worried faces backed away and Ava sighed. Thank God.

"Does this hurt?" Tara asked quietly, digging the ends of her fingers in between her ribs. Ava gasped. "Stabbing pain? Or just tender?"

"Tender," Ava managed between clenched teeth. She fought down the bile in her throat. She felt her shirt slide back into place and heard the scrape of the doc's chair.

"I don't detect any swelling or abnormalities. I'd _like _for you to get x-rayed, but since that won't happen, just take it easy for a few days."

"Maybe we should go to St. Thomas," Maggie said worriedly.

"No," Ava protested. She let Chibs help her to a sitting position, hand automatically going to her side. "I don't want to deal with Hale yet."

Her mother was worrying a fingernail with her teeth, hazel eyes round. "I don't like this. What if you've got internal injuries?"

Ava shook her head, hating that it made the dizziness worse. She felt like she'd been run over by a semi and was both tired, and mortified to be sitting in the middle of the clubhouse like this, all eyes on her for the second time in a week. "I just want to sleep," she croaked. "And maybe a shower." She kept feeling Richie's phantom touch all over her, skin crawling at the memory.

Chibs still had a hand between her shoulders and Tara was prodding lightly at her bloody arm. And everyone was just _staring _at her. She scanned the crowd with tired eyes and met that same look of mixed concern and horror. But she caught Tig's glance over behind the bar and he, out of everyone, seemed calm. She wished it was Happy instead, but grounded herself with his impassive gaze as Tara started digging debris out of her stab wound.

**-O-**

Happy was thoroughly soaked by the time he got back to the clubhouse. The rain had started as a mist, but had kicked up on his ride, and was now billowing across the parking lot in hard, stinging waves.

He didn't feel it. Once that kid had managed to choke out his strangled, breathless story about Ava, he'd been focused on one thing and one thing alone; getting to her. Usually, no matter what he was doing for the club, he was the gunslinger of the bunch, the one who never let a situation get to his head. He didn't lose his cool. When the other guys were yelling and jumping and getting emotionally invested in shit, he and Tig popped off round after round with dead-eye precision.

But when he'd busted through the door of that shed and he'd seen that kid on top of her, blood streaked down her arms, struggling under him…something had snapped. No one had known; Tig and everyone else wouldn't question his mental state because he'd gotten a perfect bead on the guy's shoulder and dropped him with one shot. But he'd wanted to kill him. Charming be damned; he'd wanted to kill all three of those little assholes.

And even with her trembling arms around his neck, knowing she was safe, Hap had almost put another hole in that bastard. It spooked him almost to think that he hadn't been focused on the job, but on his rage. He wasn't Tig – he didn't get _enraged_.

But still, he couldn't shake this new sense of purpose. He was wound up too tight, and didn't think he'd be able to settle until he saw her with his own eyes; alive and unharmed.

He passed Maggie and Chibs coming out of the clubhouse under the overhang, rain drumming hard above them.

"Hap," Maggie hugged him hard. "God, I don't know what we'd do without you sometimes," she whispered as she pulled away. Her eyes were dry, but he could tell she'd cried at some point, the streaks in her makeup plain.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Inside. Hale won't take no for an answer, so Chibs and I are on our way to the station." She gave him a pleading look. "Do you think you could…?"

"Yeah." He nodded towards Chibs. "What about Dad?"

She patted him on the arm. "I'm gonna talk to Dad. Don't worry about him right now."

The look she gave him as she walked away was one that he used to hate. Once upon a time, he'd wanted to call her a shitty-ass mom for that look. It was also the look that had bonded him so irrevocably to the kid. The reason she was alive tonight. Maggie had always known that his loyalty was hard to earn and even harder to keep, and she'd orchestrated the commitment there. God save the world from smart bitches like that.

As Chibs walked by, Hap expected any number of dirty looks or curses. The Scotsman had been none too pleased that he'd almost castrated a guy in front of Ava. So it surprised him when Chibs grabbed a firm hold of his forearm and squeezed. The rain was whipping all around them and there was an obvious anger on his face, but Chibs said nothing and walked away with another squeeze. It was the _thank you _he couldn't bring himself to say. Which meant a hell of a lot more than the actual words in Happy's book.

Inside the clubhouse, Ava was sitting on a table, a pile of bloody gauze beside her. Tara was suturing her right arm, and going by her ashen face and the way she held herself up with one shaking hand, he realized the girl was much worse off than she'd led them to believe back in the shed.

Juice and the Prospect backed away as he came in the room. Jax was sitting next to Ava, an arm around her shoulders, and glanced up. All side conversation stopped, even Tara paused mid-stitch, her eyes shooting around in search of the interruption. Hap didn't stare him down, but he waited for Jax to make the first move.

Finally, the Prez stood and moved to a chair a few feet away. "Did Hale buy the kid's story?" he asked, and just like that, everything clicked into place. It was like the whole clubhouse released a deep breath; the walls relaxed, the dust settled. And without any words other than a simple question about business, the shit storm had passed.

Hap took Jax's spot on the table and Ava leaned into him instantly. Her eyes were clamped shut, brows wrinkled as she fought the pain. If she hadn't been helping, he would have slapped the doctor bitch for making her hurt like that.

"I doubt it," he answered truthfully. "The kid told a good story, but knowing it was her…and the gun…he's gonna grill the shit outta Maggie."

"Maggie can handle him," Opie said with a snort.

Jax chuckled. "Hey, you remember Fourth of July…when was it…ninety-one? Ninety two?"

"Ninety-one," Tig spoke up from the bar, actually smiling. "I was there for that shit."

Opie nodded. "Oh yeah."

Tara made a disgruntled sound as she worked, but wisely kept it soft enough that Hap suspected Jax couldn't hear it. The guys continued on their little trip down Maggie Memory Lane and Ava finally gave up on being tough and rested all her weight against him. He felt her fingers on his cut and her head on his shoulder, and the anger at those kids flared again. He wasn't sure, had he not gotten there in time, that he would have been able to leave them alive.

He heard the snap of latex. "I'm done," Tara said.

He glanced over and saw that she had put a layer of gauze and self adhesive bandage tape over Ava's arm. The doc reached into her kit and came out with two bottles. "Penicillin," she said, handing him the first. "One every four hours, the whole bottle. And," the other one ", Vicodin ever four to six hours for pain if she needs it." She gave him a stern look. "Right now she needs to _sleep_."

It felt heavy and awkward for her to give _him _the drugs and directions, especially in front of all his brothers. The chuckles had died back down again and everyone was watching him. Even if they tried to move past it, things would always be weird. Always be hard. In his head, it made so much sense when it was just the two of them. But in the middle of the clubhouse, in the unflattering bar light and clouds of cigarette smoke, it felt taboo. That in a room where unmentionable things went on every day, the little girl holding onto his arm was the biggest indiscretion on record.

"Thanks," he managed, standing and pocketing the bottles. Ava's eyes opened, but her lids were at half mast and she weaved on top of the table. Okay, fuck his brothers and their weird looks at the moment. She came easily when he lifted her into a fireman's carry, her cheek on his chest.

"Let's cool it for tonight," he heard Jax say as he headed down the back hall. "We'll pick this shit up in the morning."

**-O-**

Tara shook her head in disbelief as she heard a door shut down the hall. "You guys are just going to let him take her to bed?"

Tig groaned. "He's not gonna fuck her _now_. He's not an asshole."

"And it's not like he hasn't seen everything already," Juice said, earning a backhand from Jax. "Ow."

"I think," Opie said heavily ", that if anyone had any doubts about the way Hap thinks of her, tonight should have ended all that. And," he scanned the room. "Enough awful shit has happened to the women of this club, that a little age issue is not a big fucking deal at this point."

It was painfully silent a moment – everyone knowing he was referring to Donna's murder, Gemma's rape, and Maggie's persecution by the Irish. The age scandal here was small potatoes by those standards.

"Yeah," Jax sighed. "You're right."

**-O-**

He was careful, but the trip down the hall and to his dorm room had her more alert. Ava pulled herself up to a sitting position as soon as he laid her out on the bed.

"Whoa," Hap caught her shoulder. "Doc said to sleep."

She didn't care what anyone had said, she couldn't sleep like this. "I need a shower," she insisted, voice sounding broken and foreign in her ears.

Hap's gaze narrowed and she started to feel panicked. "Please…I just…I want him off of me. I can smell him." She pleaded with her eyes, feeling near tears, and finally he relented.

He shook his head. "Can you even walk?"

"Yeah."

But it quickly became apparent that she couldn't walk well or without help. Everything hurt. She gave up and leaned back against the sink while he turned the hot water on to a trickle – so her stitches wouldn't get wet he explained – and then stripped out of his clothes.

Nothing about it felt sexual or flirtatious as she undressed in front of him. Nor when he helped her step into the shower. Ava was able to wash her own hair one-handed and soaped the sweat and fear and stink of moldy grass off, Happy grabbing her hip or her shoulder to keep her balanced, pulling her bandaged arm from under the little spit of water coming out of the shower head.

As the heat and steam relaxed her muscles, as it became harder to stay upright on her feet, the tears she'd choked back all night finally came. Thinking about what had happened – and worse, what could have happened – had her head spinning in hard, fast circles. Even though Richie hadn't gotten her pants off, it was too easy to imagine what would have happened if he had. What Eric would have done to her if not for Hap. Her grandmother always said crying was like throwing more coals on the fire; that whatever else was wrong with your life snuck up and bit you in the ass when you were already down about something else.

That was happening to her now. She weaved drunkenly, grasping at the slick tile, and Happy caught her. God, when was she ever going to be useful? Why was he the one who did all the saving? She put her arms around his neck, not caring that the bandage got wet or that the wound beneath hurt at the contact.

Hap was still a moment, and then one hand found the small of her back and the other landed between her shoulders and he held her tight against his chest. She pressed her face into his skin and just let go and cried like a girl.

They stayed like that for a long time. One of his hands went to the back of her head, stroking down the tangle of wet, dark hair. "You're alright," he said over and over. "You're fine."

**-O-**

Chibs hated cages. The truck or the van wasn't so bad if he had to use it, but he abhorred Maggie's car. It was all low to the ground and sleek, and terribly confining. He killed the engine in the T-M parking lot and stared through the windshield, through the rush of pounding water. It was loud on the roof of the Caddy, like a waterfall.

It had been a long and frustrating evening with Hale. He had his strong suspicions that the kids hadn't shot themselves up, that the weapons found didn't even belong to them. He was right of course, but where was the fun in admitting that? The Chief had demanded that Ava come in and provide a statement. Even with all her tenacity, Maggie had only been able to hold him off for the night. The next morning, Ava would have to go in. And then Chibs might very well lock her away and not let her go within two hundred feet of that damn school again. And people called the Sons thugs.

That night's events were a tangle in his head. The horror of thinking that Ava was hurt and missing, of knowing who had taken her and what he intended, had been blasted to bits when he'd come around that corner and seen her with Happy. He'd been too shocked to wrestle past Tig. Happy had been two people; the man who tucked a bloodied lock of hair behind Ava's ear, and the one who pulled his knife on the little shit with the stab wounds. Chibs hadn't thought it possible, but he'd seen the roles swap in the man, back and forth as fast as a heartbeat, a shift so slight an outsider would never have noticed. Protector and killer. Very distinct.

And he'd realized, with a jolt, that the man had been doing this for seventeen years now. The ease with which he put Ava aside and then pulled her back to him, was second nature; no longer a conscious effort, but a part of his routine.

Watching his daughter slide her arms around Happy's neck, the way she leaned into him, had given him cold, sick chills. It had all made such a strange picture. Tig had been excited, watching with unblinking eyes, mouth curled in some kind of twisted smile.

And then, miracle of miracles, Ava had called him off. Whatever she'd said…her hold there was strong, deep in a way she didn't even understand. Chibs knew then that Ava didn't matter to Hap like an Old Lady would, but like a child would. Something instinctual and predatory. Though it had become sexual, she was still the girl he'd been charged with looking after too.

The scene was running through his head now on a continuous loop. Maggie had tried, but hadn't quite explained it right. She hadn't told him that seeing it for himself would be both a terrifying relief and a headfuck. He was seriously wishing someone's Old Lady was a shrink so she could analyze this shit for him.

"If she's asleep, I don't want to move her," Maggie said quietly. "She needs the rest."

"Aye." He scrubbed tiredly at his hair. "I need to talk to him though. You know that."

She sighed. "Just…try to remember what he's done for her. What he means to her."

Chibs fiddled with the keys, staring out at the falling rain. "I think," he said slowly ", that I'm almost jealous of the asshole. I've never been her da. Not really."

"He isn't either."

He gave her a curious look.

She looked tired, sideways in her seat, one elbow propped on the dash. "Ava needs you to love her unconditionally. To…hell, bug her about her homework, teach her how to shoot, embarrass her in public. But trust me when I tell you this, baby, we girls need more than our daddies. It kills you guys, I know, but it's true. And let's get real…like you'd ever be okay with a civilian."

He sighed and let his head flop back against the headrest. "I hate it when you make sense."

"And," she added quietly. "If she goes off and marries Joe the Plumber, how often do you think you'll see her? You think a straight-earning husband's gonna want his family around ours?"

He was silent a moment. "I need to talk to him."

**-O-**

Ava had fallen asleep almost instantly. She was wearing his Reaper Crew shirt and was curled up on her good side, using his stomach as a pillow. Happy was sitting upright against the headboard, smoking, and watching her hair dry across her shoulders. She'd taken her pills, cried some more, and then finally passed out. He knew he should wriggle out from under her and go back to the common room, but couldn't make himself.

An uncomfortable little shudder went down his spine when he thought about how similar this felt to nights when she was just a little girl, when he'd been in town anyway and Maggie had to run off and do whateverthefuck and he'd ended up watching cartoons and eating pizza with the kid. He didn't like thoughts like that.

He wasn't surprised when his door opened without a knock, nor was he all that surprised that it was Chibs. The VP closed the door and leaned back against it for a minute, watching. Hap knew he could see the girl's wet hair and the wet patches where his shirt clung to his chest. His bare feet.

"I tried to sit in the chair," Hap motioned to the recliner with the end of his cigarette. "But she kept comin' over there, so I figured…"

Chibs sighed and went to the desk, folding his arms and leaning back against it. He shook his head and stared at Ava. "I didn't get there in time tonight."

Hap shrugged, but the _I did _was heavily implied.

"I didn't get there for her mum either," he said on a snarl. "I can't fuckin' get there for either of them. I been doin' jack shit for my women for years."

Happy was silent and Chibs turned his glare to him. "I wanted to be pissed at you. Still do."

"I deserve it."

"But you kept them alive when I couldn't. So…" Chibs shrugged and headed for the door. "Hale wants to see her in the morning."

So that was it then? Hap watched him grab the knob and felt like he'd not quite been given permission, but maybe forgiven for what had happened thus far.

Chibs paused halfway out the door. "Why didn't you kill him?" he asked softly. "The kid. What stopped you?"

"She didn't want me to. Bodies in Charming and all that."

He snorted and left.

When Chibs was gone, the room was quiet once more. Hap could hear the rain on the roof, the drops hitting the window every time the wind gusted. Ava was breathing in quick, shallow huffs. Her ribs hurt. No doubt her head hurt too. He'd need to wake her eventually, for fear of a minor concussion.

Without disturbing her, he reached for his cell on the nightstand and dialed a number he knew by heart.

"Yeah?" the other line picked up on the second ring.

"Quinn…it's Hap. You got a minute?"

**TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: ****Thanks to my reviewers for their support. I've been feeling a little uninspired. This chapter does not have a pleasant ending, but there is more to come, so don't give up on my Ava and Hap just yet.**

…

It took Ava a long time to wake up. It was like bobbing along just beneath the surface of the water – she could see the light dancing overhead, but couldn't reach it. She shifted, tried to burrow into the mattress, and then the pain slammed into her.

Every muscle felt raw beneath her skin; the ache deep. She could feel her pulse pounding in the bruises – her ribs, her face, her arm…holy shit, her arm hurt. Take your breath away hurt. She gripped the pillow hard, pulling in short, shallow breaths to keep from expanding her ribcage too far. And then she remembered that she hadn't fallen asleep on a pillow, but on Hap.

The night before started playing behind her eyes, the colors vivid, the emotions catching up with her groggy mind. Her heart sped up as she replayed the what ifs. What if she'd had a flashlight? What if she'd moved slower? Covered her tracks? What if she hadn't gone at all? What if Happy hadn't gotten there?

Her eyes came open with a jolt and she saw Hap next to her. He was on his stomach, arms under the pillow, head tilted towards her. He looked to be asleep, but she wasn't sure. He probably had a knife under the damn pillow.

Too sore and tired to get up yet and search for her meds, Ava let herself hope for a moment. No one had moved her, no one had come barging in. Maybe it was okay now. Maybe last night changed things for the others. Because this was the way it was supposed to be; the fresh sunbeams playing across the space between them, dust motes swimming in the light. It was quiet and peaceful and so very not complicated. Other people and their opinions had a way of tipping the balance, making things feel strange. No one in Charming had been around for all those evenings and afternoons in Seattle.

His eyes opened and they were so focused she figured he'd been awake for awhile. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she tried, but her throat was dry and it came out as a whisper. She nodded instead, her cheek sore when it brushed the pillow. And apparently she had some sort of whiplash from being tackled.

She felt his hand on her leg, warm and rough and solid, and he pushed the t-shirt up over her hip. She didn't know or care what he was doing, but when his touch landed on her battered ribs, she realized he was checking her injuries.

"How bad does it hurt?" he was giving her a hard look, trying to read her face.

"Not too bad," she lied.

Hap closed his hand around her side and squeezed.

She gasped. "Bad, okay? It hurts bad."

He lifted the shirt further, far enough to see the discoloration on her skin; the muted blues and purples. The pads of his fingers were feather light now, but he clenched his jaw.

Ava felt her eyelids flagging. She could easily fall back to sleep like this; in the quiet, lazy morning sun with Hap right there. But of course he pulled the shirt back down and leaned over the other side of the bed. She heard the rattle of the pills before he held the two prescription bottles out to her. She dry swallowed the antibiotic and the pain pill with a grimace and passed the meds back. The whole exchange was silent. Then he settled onto his back and lit a cigarette. She listened to the slow hiss of his exhaled smoke for awhile before he spoke.

"Hale wants you to give a statement today."

"Oh." She didn't really know what to say. The night before, she'd been incapable of thinking beyond the here and now. Stabbing Richie was bound to have consequences.

Maybe…she felt that weird little jolt of hope again…if she got thrown out of school, she could find a job in town. Something small that gave her a paycheck and didn't take up too much time. The mental picture had never been clearer; an apartment, a little house. She couldn't cook, but she could learn. She could envision his cut draped over a kitchen chair, boots a muddy heap by the front door. She wouldn't be relegated to the kitchen with the kids at Gemma's dinners. She could be at the table, a real Old Lady, a valuable part of the club support system.

The normal parts of her life seemed to be slipping away, harder and harder to hold onto. She felt forced into the role prescribed by society, and much more suited to shadowed nights around a table cleaning guns, fetching beers. In that moment, she wanted all of it; the whole heartbreaking deal.

"I'm sorry," her mouth still felt like cotton. "I didn't mean to get you guys in trouble."

"You didn't," he said between drags. "We came up with a story for the Chief. Stick to it and you'll be fine."

He felt very far away all of a sudden. Ava put a hand on his arm, his skin cool to the touch. "No, I mean, I'm sorry I was such an idiot. I knew better and I let myself get sucked into that trap like a dumbass."

The sheets rustled as he shrugged. "Everybody fucks up once in a while. It's fine."

But it wasn't fine. He was being cold. In sleep, he'd been turned toward her, watchful, but was now distant. "Happy…" she struggled up to an awkward sitting position. "What are you -,"

"C'mon," he rolled smoothly out of bed, on his feet and looking for his boots. "Your mom's probably waitin'."

And he left her there, dumbfounded. Slowly, every move inspiring some new twinge of pain, she climbed out of bed.

**-O-**

Over Hale's shoulder, she caught her reflection in the two-way glass and realized for the first time that she looked downright ghoulish. The bruising on her face was worse than she thought. She had a long scrape along her jaw. The fluorescent overhead lights weren't doing anything flattering to her pale complexion either. Damn Scottish skin tone.

She was in fresh jeans that her mother had brought, but refused to change out of Hap's shirt. His smell was comforting now. Beside her, Maggie sat alert, one hand on her shoulder for support. She could hear the jangle of Chibs' wallet chain as he paced behind her. The sound was like the soothing chime of a baby's crib mobile.

"Are you sure?" Hale pressed. "You've never seen this knife before?" He tapped at the Gerber switchblade inside its evidence baggie.

She had of course seen the knife before; it was one of Tig's spares. But it wasn't the one she'd jammed into Richie. Her bone handled pig sticker was home safe and clean in its sheath. "Nope," she said flatly. "I've never seen it."

He sighed. "How did you get it turned back on Richie Grant?"

"The guys have always taken the time to teach me self defense," she said honestly. "It's a scary world out there, Chief Hale. Girl has to be able to stand up for herself."

Hale tilted his head, jaw popping. She saw the frustration in his eyes. He'd been banging his head against the wall of SAMCRO his whole career and now seemed ready to hit someone over the fact that he was being duped by a teenager. "Ava -,"

"She gave you her statement," Maggie interrupted. "And as you can tell, she feels like shit. I'm taking her home, Hale. You've gotten the story, just leave it alone."

He scowled at her a moment, then leaned back in his chair and waved at the door. "You're free to go," he said, sounding disappointed.

Ava stood on wobbly legs; the Vicodin doing funny things to her head. Maggie hooked an arm through hers and though the support helped, the muscles caught around her ribs. She hissed through her teeth, trying to stay tall and not crumple over. She noticed Hale's odd expression and paused. "He hates the club," she said loudly to her mother. "So he doesn't even consider that one of us might be a target for outsiders. Even if it's a girl."

Chibs joined them and both her parents guided her through the door. She took a moment's pleasure in the Chief's _how dare you _look, but then focused all her attention on walking without staggering.

It was blindingly bright outside, the air thin and scrubbed clean after the previous night's storm. Ava shuffled to Maggie's CTS, tired and dizzy and wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed. Preferably with Happy, though she knew she couldn't ask that.

"Mom," she said as she reached for the door handle. "About school…"

"You're going home," Maggie assured. "We'll sort the rest out later."

**-O-**

Hap was in the weight room doing bicep curls with a set of forty-pounders when Jax found him. The Prez leaned back against the door jamb, hands in his jeans pockets. The circles under his eyes were prominent in the shade of his hat bill. "I got a call from Quinn this morning," he said levelly.

"Yeah?" Hap continued with the curls. _Forty-two…forty-three…_

Jax sighed. "You've been here four years, man. Why go Nomad now? This about Ava?"

Hearing it said that way pissed him off. Like it was just a simple thing and he was running away. He slammed the dumbbells back onto their rack, the other weights banging against one another. "No. The kid's got nothing to do with it."

"You know," Jax scrubbed a hand down his chin. "I don't get you. You've always been rabid about this club. But this…shit, man. You're gettin' what you wanted. I watched you stand there and let Chibs beat the shit outta you. And goddamn if he isn't about to roll over on this Ava shit, and you're leavin'? What the hell?"

He shrugged. He wasn't sure he could explain it in a way that Jax would understand. Charming was too homey, too Mayberry. He couldn't slit throats in town and get away with it. His aggression had been building, slowly and steadily, and where the girl was concerned, he was no longer objective. Just like with his mother, emotion had taken the place of cold, hard logic. Nomad was where he belonged. He served a purpose there. Ava would want things from him; promises and shit. He could neither afford to get more attached than he already was, nor could he let her become something she wasn't to keep him happy. And there was no chance in hell of ever going back to the way things had been before. He'd shot that all to hell.

"You don't need me in Charming," he said, meeting the President's aggravated stare. "I'm better use to the club out on the road."

Jax sighed even though he conceded him a nod. "What about Ava? You really gonna do this to her? It'll kill her, bro."

Happy snorted a humorless laugh. "Last week you didn't want me near her."

He took his hat off and scratched at his head. He liked tired, which just made Hap think that his decision was all the smarter. "You have to tell her," Jax said tiredly. "My cousins are tough, but they ain't invincible. I won't be the one to break the news to her after you're gone."

"Yeah. I can do that."

"I hope you've thought this through," Jax said. When he got no answer, he turned to leave, arms raised in a helpless gesture. "We'll vote to release tomorrow night at church."

**-O-**

The day was a blur of Vicodin-induced naps and mindless TV watching. The sky outside the living room windows was turning a dusky teal when Maggie perched on the edge of the coffee table, a grilled cheese on a plate and a can of Coke. "You hungry, sweetheart?"

Ava pushed up from her pillow, head swimming, and took the offered plate. She stared at the sandwich, not able to eat it.

Maggie reached forward and tucked a messy lock of hair behind her ear. She didn't say anything, because, at this point, what was there to say?

**-O-**

He'd intended to do it now. All he had to do was go across the street and knock on the door. He knew she was inside; sleeping. Healing. But Hap sat on the curb smoking and couldn't bring himself to do it. He was making the right decision here, he _was,_ damnit, but he didn't want to see her face when she found out.

Fuck it, he ought to just leave. Then she'd really hate him. Then he wouldn't have anything to worry about.

But he stayed, and was still on the curb when Chibs came out the front door and headed his way. "Is it true? What Jackie-boy said?"

Happy nodded. "Yeah."

The Scot was still a moment, scratching at his goatee. He scowled. "You put her through all this so you can fuckin' leave?"

He snorted. "You want me to leave, bro."

He drew out the stare-down a moment longer, then Chibs sighed and sat beside him on the curb. "Aye." He fished out his own smoke and lit it. "But I saw it – can't say I like it – but I saw you with her, dealing with those shitheads. Fuck me, but Maggie was right. You care, brother."

Hap said nothing.

"Why leave then?"

"You want her to have a future outside the club? Then I gotta leave. Besides, Charming makes me twitchy."

Chibs sighed. "You think you'll actually be able to stay away?"

"Honestly…I dunno. But what I've done, I owe her that much."

Chibs didn 't ay anything; in silent agreement. And as he watched the sun go down behind their little house, Hap had this flash of foresight. He could see a different little house, Ava moving around behind the curtains; burning dinner, scrubbing his muddy boot prints out of the carpet. She would be the easiest, most willing Old Lady anyone had ever had. More loyal than her mother, more ferocious than Gemma. And though it physically pained him to think about some other man on the receiving end of that smile each night when he got home, he knew she deserved better than that. And he knew he couldn't settle down like that, even if it was her.

"Tell her tomorrow," Chibs said, rising. "She's too tired tonight."

Happy watched him go and envied him. Here he'd done all the work, but Chibs got to keep her.

**-O-**

The halls at CHS fell silent Friday morning when Ava rounded the corner towards her locker. She could feel the stares, the gawks, the open mouths. She'd tried to cover them with makeup, but there were still bruises on her face. She walked slowly, bag on one shoulder, trying to hold her tender side still as she made her way down the gauntlet.

Maggie had encouraged her to stay home, but she didn't want to. She'd already missed two weeks with her suspension; she couldn't afford to miss anymore. And the three goons who had jumped her were still at St. Thomas.

Caroline peeled away from her own locker and took up stride next to her. "I got your back," she whispered, but it didn't help make the looks more bearable.

And then the whispering started.

"…hear she stabbed him right in the heart…"

"…scary damn bitch…"

"…can't trust anyone who runs with that Sam Crow bunch…"

"…violent…"

"…school shooting…"

Her head was pounding already – she'd skipped on the pain pills since they made her dizzy – and this was making it worse. How was she supposed to do this? She couldn't live on the straight side of the law. She just couldn't. For all the talk of her vagabond family, she was the one being persecuted.

Her breath caught and that made her ribs snatch. God, she was going to finally do it; have a mental breakdown in the middle of school. She grabbed for Caroline's arm. Fuck her locker, she'd just go to the office and have Maggie call her out sick. She couldn't do this.

As she turned, she bumped into a solid wall of someone, and staggered back. Carter held out a hand. "Whoa, you okay?"

"Get the fuck away from me -,"

"Ava," he put a hand on her shoulder. "Hold on. Please. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Simultaneously, Ava jerked out of his grasp, stumbled, and Caroline pushed between them, shoving hard at Carter's chest. "Back off, asshole!" she hissed, forced the jock to take another step.

Ava dropped her bag and her purse, books and tubes of lip gloss scattering everywhere. And when she dove after her things, her damaged body seized up and forced her to her knees. Panting, tears now pooling at the corners of her eyes, she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. The noise in the hall had reached a crescendo of laughs and gasps.

"Everyone, shut the fuck up!" someone yelled. As Caroline helped her to her feet, Ava realized it was Carter who'd yelled.

All the bystanders fell silent. She watched, shocked, as he swept his arms toward the crowd. "Does anyone else wanna say something about Ava Telford? Cause I'll throw down right now."

Ava righted herself carefully, scanning the faces around her. All looked just as disbelieving as she did.

When no one made a move to say anything further, Carter nodded. "That's what I thought. Leave her the hell alone."

And just like that, all the other students went back to their individual conversations; the homecoming dance, who got caught making out in the east end bathroom. Lockers were slammed and papers were rustled and no one so much as glanced Ava's way. She and Caroline knelt, on purpose this time, to collect her things, and Carter dropped to his knees too.

"Go away," Ava said through gritted teeth as he held out her chemistry notebook. "I don't need your help."

"Ava -,"

"I said go!" she shoved off the floor, biting her lip and fighting the aches and pains.

Carter stepped aside with a frown, but didn't say anything further. Ava felt Caroline's hand on her arm, heard her inquiries, but couldn't focus. She hated this place, _hated _it. Here she was SOA and needed a football douche to step in and defend her. She hadn't been able to stop Richie and now couldn't even go to her locker without help.

She was done. She was dropping out of school.

**-O-**

Maggie was on the phone with a customer when Tig came storming into the office, slamming the door back into a file cabinet. "Hold on just a moment," she said sweetly, and put the caller on hold. "What the f -," she trailed off when he came around the desk and she got a good look at his face.

"Nomad?" His eyes looked electric, positively crackling in his hard face. He slammed both hands down on the desk and leaned in close, startling her. "Hap's going Nomad?"

She sighed. "Tig, just take a breath, okay?" Jax had told her the night before and as of yet, she hadn't told anyone, not even Ava. Happy – the asshole – had promised Jax that he'd be the one to break it to the girl. And Maggie couldn't even begin to fathom the damage this would do to her daughter.

"I told you," he hissed "I fucking _told you _this shit with your kid would go south. And you let it happen and now Hap's going Nomad!"

"Oh, fuck off," she told him, pissed. "I didn't orchestrate this."

He lifted his hand and the warning sirens went off in her head. _Duck, you idiot, duck! He's gonna hit you! _But he curled it into a fist instead and paced away from the desk. "I warned you three years ago that your stupid kid -,"

"Don't," she stood and smacked the metal top of the desk, the sound ringing. "Don't you dare put your paranoid bullshit off on my kid."

He glared at her, jaw grinding. "We need Hap here. And now he's gotta run away 'cause pussy got him in trouble with our _President_."

"No, _you_ need Hap here because you're so damn scared this club's gonna lean a different way you can't stand it."

His eyes narrowed. She'd hit it on the money.

"Weren't you the one enjoying the show Wednesday night? Ava said you knew from the beginning and kept quiet. Don't come barging in here now acting like it's all my fault. It's nobody's goddamn fault."

Tig shook his head. "You damn bitches always gotta fuck things up."

Maggie folded her arms and tilted her head. The way he had a hand braced on the mini fridge, rubbing at his forehead…it reminded her of the Year Without Abel. Sometimes he would come into the office and just stew about whatever was bothering him. He'd call her a bitch and bring up old dead shit about the past and usually, by the end of it, she would have pegged his real problem.

"You sympathize with him, don't you?" she asked quietly.

Tig shrugged.

"Tig, Ava and Hap…that's not like you and me."

"Why the fuck wasn't he careful?" he asked the window. "I mean, damn, I knew he was caught up, I just…me and you never got the club turned upside down."

"Jax isn't Clay," she conceded. "It's his knight in shining armor complex."

He was quiet a moment. "It's not like he'd be bad for her, you know."

"Trust me, I've seen the whole show. I absolutely know."

"Why does fucking one of you make bad shit happen?"

Maggie sat back down with a sigh. "I don't know what to tell you, Tigger. I actually think I could get Chibs convinced."

"Then why…" he exhaled in a tired rush. Defeated, he plopped into a chair across from her. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he mused. "Hap was supposed to be here. We're supposed to keep SAMCRO the real deal."

She felt sorry for him. "Change happens. Shit, I spent a year trying to keep this place afloat. No Gemma, no Chibs, no Jax…I'm just so damn glad we're all alive on the other side of that…"

He glanced up and almost looked guilty.

"…Hap won't be gone forever. He'll come back through. I just hate it for Ava. This is gonna crush her."

"She's hung up on him," he agreed. "And the scary part – I've never seen him like this."

"We've all got a weak spot for _someone_. It's inevitable."

"I don't," he said with a snort.

"You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart," Maggie said with a sad smile. "Can I get back to work now? Or do you want to accuse me of more shit?"

He stood, knees popping and headed for the door. "I can't stand your ass, Mags," he said lightly, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek as he walked out.

"MmmHmm."

**-O-**

All throughout her classes, Ava plotted. Her hazy fantasies of the morning before had crystallized into solid, tangible images in her mind. There was an oddities store off Main Street; a little dark, dusty place that sold books and stationary and pens and hundred year old bits and bobs. She had always loved the place and spent enough money there on books and sketch paper that the owner would surely give her a job. It wouldn't pay much, but given what Happy earned with the club…it'd be enough. They could get a one bedroom unit or a rental over in the old section of town.

She could see the mismatched cups and plates on a garage sale table. Smell toast burning in the oven. It was so easy when it was just the two of them, why couldn't this be easy too? She didn't need a ring or a promise – she could work and clean and help the club on nights he wasn't home. He could keep his guns in a safe in the closet like her dad did. And at night, in a dark and quiet house, she could lay beside him. Touch him, love him. And the sweetbutts would know that he was hers, and no other woman's.

He was what she needed. Not school, not all this talk about future and graduating and careers bullshit. Happy had always been there, the only constant in her life, and he was all she needed now.

She drove to T-M when school let out, practically bubbling with excitement at her new plan. The incident with Richie, Carter's lame attempt at playing savior; all that faded away. She didn't have to go back to school. She could move on from that, do what she was meant to do.

Maggie was in the office, staring at the computer screen and rubbing at her eyes as per usual these days. "Hey, babe," she greeted. "Your day okay?"

Ava didn't miss the tension across her brow, the worry in her eyes. She sat gingerly, mindful of her bruises. "It sucked," she couldn't keep the perkiness from her voice. "But whatever."

"Whatever?"

She shrugged. "It's cool."

Maggie studied her a moment, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

"What, Mom?"

"Have you seen Happy at all today?"

Ava frowned. "I was at school -,"

"You should talk to him. He has something to tell you."

She felt her good mood waver; her fragile happiness trembling. "Why? What's going on?"

Maggie smoothed her face. "Nothing, baby. He just mentioned wanting to see you and I thought I'd pass the word along."

"Oh…"

"'Cause I'm a cool mom, right?"

Suspicious, but too high on her flurry of ideas, she went to the clubhouse in search of Happy. The chapel doors were closed and she heard the soft murmur of voices within. The phones were all on the pool table in their cigar box.

She went down to his dorm room to wait, closing the door behind her. It was as it had been the day before; the bed still unmade and sheets rumpled. Clothes hanging off the desk and chair; a pair of jeans in the recliner. Cigarette butts in a glass ashtray on the nightstand. Her torn and blood stained clothes from Wednesday night were still on the bathroom floor where she'd stripped them off.

Amongst the cigarette smoke and stale beer smell of the room, there was a dark undercurrent that was just _him. _The mix of his laundry detergent, soap, and skin was comforting. Her new place would smell that way once she put her plan into motion.

With nothing to do but wait, and a monster headache, she popped two pain pills from her purse and curled up on the bed with a smile.

**-O-**

The vote had been unanimous. Tig had fussed with his lighter and shot him dirty looks, but eventually, his vote had been "yea" too. The paperwork had been signed and the Redwood patches stripped from his cut; he was now officially a Nomad again. And Quinn needed him in Oregon the next night.

He went to his dorm to get his shit together, and found Ava, asleep, on his bed. She looked so young curled up on her side; her smooth, fair cheeks and the quiet way she breathed. He saw the bruise on her forehead and the bandage on her arm and felt something akin to panic. What if Chibs couldn't keep her safe? What if he left and then something happened to her? If after all this time, he took off to save her from himself, and she got hurt worse that she had been?

"Ava," he shook her hip lightly. "Wake up, kiddo."

It must have been the drugs, because she blinked herself awake slowly, swaying as she sat up. "Hey," she rubbed at her eyes. Yawned. "Mom said you wanted to talk to me?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yeah."

She made a face as if it hurt, but she crawled to him and then sat with her feet pull beneath her. "Is everything okay? I thought -," her eyes widened, becoming fully alert, and she put a hand on the front of his cut. "What happened?" her voice shook. "Where are your patches?"

"Ava -,"

Her eyes flashed up to his. "Where are they?" she repeated. He heard the sudden panic and hated himself. "Hap?"

She was scraping her nails over the frayed threads where he'd cut the patches off. He closed his hand around her wrist. "They're gone."

"What? Did they…did Jax? _Assholes_!" she snarled. "They can't do that to you! They can't make you -,"

"They didn't," he interrupted. "It was my choice."

She blinked hard a few times, absorbing his words. "_What_?"

She was like a spooked animal, teetering between fight or flight, and he wanted to be careful. He spoke slowly. "I decided that it would be easier if I went Nomad for awhile."

She was still a moment, not breathing, but trembling. And then she flung herself backward, staggering to her feet. "Easier?" She starting crying, big fat tears that came coursing down her cheeks and he wasn't sure if they were the product of his admission, or the pain at moving so quickly. Maybe both. And just like it had when she was much younger, seeing her cry made him want to put a bullet through someone.

But this time, for the first time, _he _was the bad guy.

"Ava -,"

"How is this easier?" she yelled, coming around to his side of the bed. "Do you think that _leaving _will make things better?"

His chest tightened. He hadn't ever seen her like this before, this angry and hurt, and he was the reason behind it. It was just all wrong. All of it. And he just wanted to get the hell out of the room and away from her tears and betrayed looks.

"Is it me?" her voice cracked. "Because I know I'm not domestic and I know I'm not good in bed…" her eyes were wild as she fell to her knees on the floor, her hands on his thighs. "But I can learn. Please, Happy, I can get better. At everything. I can be what you want."

"Shit…no, no, no." She resisted, but he pulled her easily up into his lap. She latched onto his cut with both hands. Her face was red and puffy. He hadn't wanted it to come down to all this heartbreaking shit. He'd wanted to just drop the bomb and walk out. But of course he couldn't do that. "Stop," he told her. "It's not like that, sweetheart."

"But I _love _you," she choked out. "Please…I'll do whatever it takes. I'm quitting school, we can -,"

"No, Ava. You're not."

"But…you can't…I thought that you…I…I love you," she repeated.

"I know, baby. But I gotta go."

She closed her eyes and buried her face in the hollow of his throat. "It's not fair," she mumbled.

Hap held her while she shook and he realized with something almost like pain, that he hadn't just pushed away the woman, but that he'd wounded the little girl he used to sit with. All the time he'd spent protecting her, and now he was hurting her.

He told himself it was for the best. And if she turned out successful, he wouldn't regret his decision. But right now, he felt like shit. However hard he had thought it would be for him, it was twice as hard for her.

He lay back on the bed and cradled her on his chest until she cried herself into a devastated, drug-induced sleep.

**TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Since I'm psyched at the replay of season 2 that starts tonight, and because this chap is transitional and not exciting, I decided to go ahead and post again. There will be plenty of Happy next chapter, but not much of him here, I'm afraid. And yes, Ava is an emotional train wreck and cries too much – but she's seventeen. What a drama queen, huh?**

…

Ava woke up every morning and made her bed, drove dutifully to school. She went to all of her classes, did her homework, showered, brushed her teeth. She didn't eat much though. Her dietary needs were filled by Coke, saltines, and the occasional slice of bread smeared hastily with peanut butter.

No one said his name in front of her; like they were all afraid she'd fly into some sort of rage or hang herself or something stupid. She wasn't ready for the suicide watch list, but she didn't give a shit about anything anymore. Just because the guys were careful not to mention him, didn't mean she didn't think about him.

Two weeks before, that Friday evening when he'd told her, she'd awakened to find that he'd rolled her off his chest and onto her back. She'd thought she was out of tears, but she'd started crying again, quiet tears this time. He'd kissed her, once on the lips, then on the forehead. He'd rubbed a hand up her side, patted her thigh, and pushed off the bed without saying anything.

Afterwards, she'd sat on his bed, unmoving as the shadows turned to actual darkness. Chibs finally found her and he'd brushed her hair back, told her how sorry he was. Ava hadn't spoken to him then or since. His violent reaction was no doubt part of Hap's reason for leaving.

At school, Carter had taken up to following her around, sitting with her and Caroline at lunch. By defending her, he'd ostracized all his trendy friends, and had no one else to go to. Ava didn't have the energy to drive him away, and as she stared flatly at the lunch table each day, she overheard he and Caroline actually start to talk to one another. They had a third wheel whether they wanted one or not.

It was Friday again, which just meant another weekend of sitting in front of the TV and not eating. Mrs. Hagan was passing back the Bronte essays as class dismissed and Ava stood in line like a robot, staring ahead, not speaking to anyone. When she reached the head of the line, Mrs. Hagan set her paper aside on the desk.

"Ava? Would you mind staying after class for a bit?"

She nodded, almost hoping for detention so she could get out of chemistry, and stepped aside.

Once the other students were gone, Mrs. Hagan picked up Ava's paper and went to the pair of battered, wing-back chairs positioned on either side of the love birds' cage. To say the woman created an unusual teaching environment was an understatement. "Sit," she said brightly, waving to the other chair as she got settled in the one with houndstooth upholstery. She arranged her long paisley skirt and crossed her knees.

Ava sat, perched on the edge of the chair, not trusting the situation. Mrs. Hagan may have been her favorite teacher, but she was still a teacher.

"Ava," she began, voice soft. She bounced the essay in her hand. "This is an amazing paper, girl."

She sat back, a bit surprised by the use of 'girl'.

Mrs. Hagan sighed. "I called your mother this morning."

Ava felt her jaw start to grind. Great, as if she didn't enough bullshit problems with this school.

"I wanted to talk to her because you are, by far, my best and brightest student this year. But you've been pulling in on yourself. Is there anything I can do? You have such talent, I want you to be comfortable pursuing your studies in my classroom. I don't want you to be nervous about sharing your ideas."

Ava shrugged. "Nah. I'm fine. Just personal stuff."

Mrs. Hagan frowned and glanced down at her essay. When she glanced back up, her eyes seemed different behind her glasses, not so firm and tutorial, but mischievous almost. "What's his name?"

"Um…excuse me?"

"Your Heathcliff. What's his name?"

For the first time in two weeks, Ava felt something raw punch through her emotional walls. This aging hippy who sat on a little stool each day and preached about the classics, was staring at her in a way that was so knowing, and personal, that she felt a little shiver run up her spine.

"Your paper, your speech in class a few weeks ago…" she smiled. "You understand Bronte's point in a very real world way, don't you?"

With a frown, Ava felt herself nod. "What did my Mom tell you? How much do you know about what's going on?"

Mrs. Hagan's smile widened. "I had my own Heathcliff once too," she said. She reached for the neckline of her billowy, loose fitting blouse, and pulled the shirt off one shoulder. Faded with time, but still plainly recognizable, was a crow above her left breast, the same place as Gemma's.

Ava was stunned.

"He was Jeff when I met him, but the boys took to calling him Jet. He was my outlaw."

"You…" Ava pulled in a deep breath. "You were an Old Lady?"

Her smile became wistful. "For ten years. He took a bullet on the way down to Vegas."

"Mayan territory."

"Yep." Mrs. Hagan smiled. "The club was real good to me after Jet passed. Helped with the bills, checked up on me…but I wanted to earn for myself. So I went back to school, got my degree. And now I'm here."

"No one ever told me," she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but you just -,"

"Don't seem the type?"

Ava nodded.

"We're not all cut out of the Gemma Teller cloth," she grinned. "Don't get me wrong, I always did admire your cousin. But some of us were quieter. Wives instead of Queens."

Ava felt tingly all over. She'd spent all this time in her class, and now the flighty book worm was morphing in front of her eyes – turning into the long-haired, denim jacketed young girl climbing on the back of a Knuckle Head with some Vietnam vet turned biker. Everything felt turned upside down…and it was refreshing.

"Does the school know…?"

"No. Nobody in Charming remembers me from back then. And I'd like to keep it that way," she winked. "Except for Gemma and your mother…Clay Morrow maybe…I'm just another teacher."

Ava scooted back in her chair, her body relaxing slowly. "Not to be rude or anything, by why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't want to see a student with such insight waste her talents. And because I know that you're dealing with something heavier than normal teenage bullshit."

She quirked a smile.

"I know what it's like to fall hard, sweetie. You have to be some kind of strong to love a man like that. Most women get caught up in the romanticized ideals, but the real thing…it'll break your heart."

Ava saw Happy's face in her mind. She closed her eyes against the bombardment of images, the memories that were visual and sensory. His voice, his touch, his hard body over hers. And the little things…the rare, sweet moments that were completely innocuous. She shook her head.

"Happy," she said quietly. "My Heathcliff…it's Happy."

"And something tells me he didn't get that name because he's such a pleasant fellow."

Ava smiled and choked back a sob. "No. Definitely not."

Mrs. Hagan leaned forward and laid a reassuring hand on her knee. "It's hard. I know."

She nodded.

"You're in deeper than I was. You've got blood family on both sides in SAMCRO. Something your mother told me this morning…she wanted me to help you."

"With what?"

"Understanding that you can love your family, support the club, and still get what you want out of life."

"I don't want anything anymore," Ava said hollowly. "What I wanted went Nomad."

Another sad smile. "When this passes…and it will…you'll start thinking about other things.

She shook her head, not convinced for a second. Seventeen years of loving and caring about a person didn't just _pass_.

"When you start applying to schools, I'd be more than happy to write you a letter of recommendation."

"I don't care about college."

Mrs. Hagan leaned back and nodded. "Well," she extended Ava's paper, a big A printed in red on the cover page. "If you change your mind, I'd like to help."

**-O-**

When school let out, Ava didn't go home. She circled the block, slowing each time in front of the sprawling stucco two-story, before finally pulling into Clay and Gemma's drive and going up to the door.

Gemma answered; in one of Clay's old flannel shirts, hair tied up and pruning shears in hand. "Hey," she said in that mellow, _I didn't expect to see you _tone. She cocked a hip. "You lost?"

Ava sighed at the barb. "I wanted to talk to you, if that was alright."

The Queen pushed the door open all the way. "Sure." She let Ava come in and then relocked the door. "I'm sprucin' the place up," she waved the shears as she headed into the house. "You can help."

The kitchen counters were laid with dozens of cut flowers, all of them fresh from the garden out back. To be such a hard bitch, Gemma had quite the green thumb. She went to the center island where her crystal vases were staged and picked up a tight bundle of daisies. She went back to trimming the stems on a careful slant. "Sit."

Ava pulled out a stool and climbed up, gathering the roses her cousin indicated with a fast wave. She started plucking off the leaves just below the blooms, careful of the thorns.

"What's on your mind?" Gemma asked. The fast, metallic _snip _of the shears was loud in the following silence. She glanced up through her lashes. "You okay?"

Ava sighed and set the flowers down. "I've been trying to blame Hap going Nomad on a lot of things; Dad, Jax, awkwardness with the club."

Gemma pursed her lips.

"But I think it was 'cause of me," Ava said quietly. "I think he wanted to pull a fuck-and-run and didn't think he could get away with it considering who my dad is."

Gemma settled her flowers in a vase and started fluffing them to her liking. "That's really what you think?"

"Yeah."

The Queen put her hands on her hips and gave her a stern look. "Let me tell you something about men, sweetheart. If it ain't any good, then they ain't hittin' it more than once. They certainly don't let the girl's father beat the shit outta them. And they don't bother to _tell _a person they're leaving, they just leave."

"But I'm…just _me_. I can't be what he wants."

"It doesn't matter what _you _think you are, but what _he _thinks."

Ava frowned and Gemma barked a short laugh. "What, you think stale pussy in cheap clothes is gonna make someone like Hap rearrange his life?" She shook her head. "What, you think he patched into Redwood 'cause he needed a place to crash?"

"Well -,"

"You're a Lawson. We don't take second place to Crow Eaters and we sure as hell don't go crawling after out men; they come to us."

"Then why did he leave?"

"I don't know that, baby. You know him better than any of us. But it sure as shit wasn't because he didn't want you."

Ava fiddled with a detached flower stem, letting it sink in. "You wanted me to break it off though," she accused.

"I didn't want my Jax to inherit a whole bunch of goddamn drama. Guess he did, huh?"

She glanced up and saw that despite the harshness of her words, Gemma was smiling. "You can't think that you'll stir up all this trouble and then he'll throw that away."

"I miss him," Ava admitted, ashamed that she was being an emotional mess in front of the proud Queen of all people.

"'Course you do."

She was not at all about the warm and fuzzies. Gemma was blunt at times, oily at others, manipulative to her last breath. Family was the only thing that mattered, but it didn't mean she wouldn't lie to one member to make things easier for another. Ava both craved her unfiltered opinion, and feared the answer she'd get. Still, she asked ", do you think I made a mistake? Pushing him into…being with me?"

Gemma's face softened. "No, sweetheart. I don't."

It might have been another of those lies to appease the situation, but Ava was grateful anyway. "Thanks, Gem."

**-O-**

An hour north of Charming, at an abandoned gas station that had seen its share of vandalism and more than one fire, Chibs watched the brutality and was _almost _disgusted. In Scotland, in Ireland, and now in Cali, he'd seen his fair share of violence – his face was ample evidence of that. But watching Happy and this other Nomad, Mayday, interrogate a rogue pack of Mayans, was turning into something grotesque.

"Where?" Jax asked again, voice sounding gummed up in his throat. Almost like he might be sick.

"No se nada," the man spit through bloodied lips.

"Shit," the President muttered. "I really don't think they know."

Mayday shrugged his huge shoulders. "Well, can't very well leave 'em as witnesses, can we?"

Jax shook his head. "Nah. Finish it."

Chibs saw a strange kind of light in Hap's eyes as he reared back with the knife. The club had always trusted Hap with the tough jobs because he was meticulous and careful, not bloodthirsty, but tough enough, and level-headed enough. The best hit men weren't crazed, but calculating. He had never seemed to actually _enjoy _what he did.

Hap brought the knife down hard, not letting up when it sunk through flesh, mindless of the Mexi biker's screams. The blade punched through ribs, the wet sound of bones cracking in deference to steal loud in the quit patch of desert.

Chibs felt his stomach sour. Happy was different – very different.

The other two Mayans were finished off the same way and then Chibs helped the rest of the boys fling the bodies down in a ditch and light fire to them. When the smoldering heaps had burned to a crisp and been covered with earth, he went around to the front of the ruined building for a smoke.

Hap joined him after awhile. The man had blood smeared, thick and grisly, all the way to his elbows. Rain had collected in a crack in the asphalt and he knelt to wash his hands in the puddle.

"You okay, brother?" Chibs asked.

Hap stood, shook the dirty water off his hands. He gave Chibs a curt nod, eyes dark, and headed for his bike.

Chibs didn't know if he was hurting, or if Ava had just been able to keep that dark side of him in check all these years. Either way, it was a disturbing thought.

**-O-**

"You know, I don't _need _you in here," Maggie said an hour or so later, giving Ava the stare-down across the desk at T-M.

"Gee, thanks, Mom."

"I always _want _you here, but don't you have homework you should be finishing?"

"No," she lied. Being alone with her thoughts wasn't healthy. And listening to her mother answer phones was much better than staring blankly at notebook paper for hours. And after her talks with Mrs. Hagan and Gemma…thinking was not a good idea.

"Your teacher called me this morning," Maggie said, making a show of looking at the computer.

"I know, she told me."

"Did she tell you anything else interesting?"

Ava rolled her eyes. "You're so subtle. But yeah, she showed me her crow."

"She thinks you're talented, babe, you should let her help you with that letter -,"

Ava was saved the trouble of telling her mother that she didn't give a rat's ass about college or recommendation letters when Tux popped through the open door from the garage. He had a can of wasp spray in each hand and his chestnut hair was in his face, his cheeks flushed.

Maggie twirled her chair around at the sound of his boots on the threshold. She looked him up and down with a sideways smile. "Yes?"

"Can we borrow Ava a minute? Juice and I ain't skinny enough to get to the last nest."

Maggie's smile widened. "Why do you look like you just ran a 5K in the dead of summer?"

He swiped at his forehead with the back of his wrist. "Have you ever stirred up a hornet's nest, ma'am? It ain't pretty."

She laughed. "I leave that for the boys."

Tux glanced Ava's way. "We've got one more nest to get at and our arms are too big to fit up there."

Ava frowned. "Don't those things have like a twenty foot spray?"

"Um…"

She looked over at her mother and decided that a bee sting might be better than more uplifting conversation bullshit. "Fine, I'll come."

**-O-**

Hornet slaying turned out to be much more fun than she'd thought. When faced with angry bees, two full grown men quickly turned into running, squealing little girls. At one point, Juice sprayed Tux in the back of the head on accident. Ava laughed until she had tears running down her cheeks. She was breathing hard and yelping like a girl, aiming Raid at the bugs and hitting just about everything else in the garage instead. Laughing with the two guys, seeing the flush on their cheeks and the humored light in their eyes, she felt like one of them; alive. For the first time since he'd left, she didn't think once of Happy.

Now, close to midnight, staring at the dark ceiling in her room, the thoughts came crashing back. But this time, after talking to two road-weary Old Ladies – each smart and strong in her own way – the pain felt sharper. She'd spent all these sad nights telling herself that he didn't want her, and that she just plain wasn't enough woman for him.

But if he _did _want her, if it hadn't been a mistake, it meant he'd left because he thought it would be better for her. The kindness was harder to take than the cruelty. Ava wanted to bawl her eyes out, and oddly, she was starving.

She slipped out of bed and down the hall to the kitchen. The fluorescent bulb over the sink was on, the room eerie blue with shadows. She pulled out a pan of her mom's leftover lasagna from the fridge, scooped out a square and sat down at the bar to eat.

The food was cold and congealed in an unpleasant way, but she shoveled it in anyway. She hadn't eaten a proper meal in two weeks and couldn't seem to stop.

She heard the creak of floorboards before the overhead light flipped on. She paused, fork halfway to her mouth as she noticed Chibs standing in the doorway.

He gave her a long look, one she returned, before going to the fridge. He uncapped a beer and then sat down beside her.

Ava kept eating, but more slowly, self conscious as he watched her. They hadn't said more than 'excuse me' as they crossed paths in the kitchen since Hap left. And this felt like one of those heavy moments in which he wouldn't allow her to get away with being silent.

"I saw Happy today," he said quietly, and her fork clattered down onto the counter, marinara sauce splattering across the laminate.

She turned to him slowly, her whole body clenched up and waiting.

"We caught wind of Mayans pushin' into Niner territory, went up to check it out. Happy…" he shook his head. "He's bad off, luv. _Bad_."

She started to speak, couldn't, and cleared her throat. "Why," she managed ", are you telling me?"

"Because I hate to see you hurt, sweetheart. And I want you to know that he didn't break your heart just to do it. He hurts too."

Ava felt the familiar burn, the heat in her cheeks, felt her throat close up. "Damnit," she muttered as she started to cry for what felt like just one time in an endless string of tears. "Just…damnit."

Chibs put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight against his side.

"I'm so sorry, Dad. I know it's not your fault," she said as she struggled to pull herself together. "I was so mad and I -,"

"Shhh. It's okay." He rubbed her arm. "It's fine."

**-O-**

Once her embarrassing crying fit had passed, Ava finished her lasagna, rinsed the dish, put it away. Chibs hugged her hard; assured her that she was always his girl, that _she could be as mad as she wanted, so long as she still loved him_.

And back in her room, she couldn't even begin to sleep. She sat at her desk a long time, staring at a blank piece of sketch paper.

Mrs. Hagan's words came back to her: _when this passes…and it will…you'll start thinking about other things._

She closed her sketch pad, set it on the floor, and pulled a spiral notebook from a desk drawer. She smoothed the paper, uncapped a pen. _You're my best and brightest student this year. _She compressed all the energy rolling through her into a tight ball, focused on it, and started to write.

**TBC**


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Things will start skipping around from here. The rest of the story is going to feel more like a series of oneshots with big gaps in between. Important stuff will be going on in Charming, but I won't get to all of it. I want to focus on their relationship.**

**December 24, 2012**

By noon, Gemma and Clay's house already smelled like Ava's idea of Christmas. The desserts were baked first and would then be covered, shelved and kept hidden from roving fingers till later. Maggie and Gemma were in the kitchen; getting out the good china, defrosting the lamb that would be roasted later, arranging centerpieces. Ava was at the kitchen table, rolling silverware into the holiday linen napkins.

The weeks, months really, leading up to winter break hadn't been the most enjoyable of her life, but she'd survived them. Sometime in the middle of November, she'd thrown herself back into her school work. She'd even had an article published in the school paper, much to Mrs. Hagan's delight. And she went jogging three evenings a week with Carter. She had tried really, really hard to hate him, but couldn't. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was nice. He'd proved himself. Still didn't mean she was attracted to him…but nice.

Tonight was Gemma's annual SOA Christmas extravaganza. The food would be good and all the brothers would be present, sans Crow Eaters. Just family. And Jax's baby boy would get passed around like the offering plate at church. She was looking forward to a laid back night with everyone.

She glanced up from napkin rolling and saw Clay standing in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his hands and shaking his head at the women. Ava thought he looked less tired than he used to. His hands were shot to hell, but stepping down as Prez actually had been good for him. He was still at the garage everyday – Jax was too much of a wandering spirit to keep up with the club and T-M, and Clay was a shrewd businessman. Together, he and Gemma and Maggie were running the place like a supremely well-oiled machine these days. And Clay got to sit around with the guys, play grandpa with the boys, and just generally chill the fuck out.

He came over to the table and sat down across from Ava. "Did they make you do that?" he nodded towards her tidy pile of silverware rolls. "Or are you turning into one of them?"

She twitched a grin. "I was coerced, don't worry."

"Yeah," he laughed. "You mom used to be coerced too…now look at her." He raised his brows, mock-serious. "Scary, huh?"

"There's not a domestic bone in my body."

Clay snorted. "Right man comes along…you all get domestic."

Ava wasn't sure if he was ribbing her about Hap, or if it was one of those tidbits of adult wisdom people passed out at random when youngsters were around. Something about his smile seemed sympathetic and she figured it was probably neither. She returned her attention to the task at hand, bundling the silverware with tight precision. "Well, that's not gonna happen, so nothing to worry about. I can keep burning Lean Cuisine and throwing my clothes on the floor."

Clay laughed. "Now, that one…"

She glanced up and saw Tux come in from the den, yellow rubber gloves on and toilet brush in hand.

"Very domestic."

Gemma's Prospect radar seemed to go off and she shot a hard look towards him. "I just know you aren't dripping _toilet water _all over my goddamn carpet."

"No ma'am," he said quickly, cupping a hand beneath the leaking brush. "I finished with the bathrooms."

"Good," the Queen dismissed him with a nod. "The dust rag's above the washing machine."

"Yep," Ava agreed with a smile. "Very domestic."

**-O-**

Happy lit a smoke and leaned back against his bike. It was a cool afternoon, the breeze crisp with the hints of snow from somewhere up in Canada. He was with Luther and Mayday just outside of Stockton. Quinn, the Nomad President, had an Old Lady to go home to for the holiday, some of the other boys too. Hap was with the two other bachelors doing a whole lot of nothing.

The four years he'd lived in Charming, he'd attended Gemma's big Christmas Eve shindig. They used to have dinners and things in Tacoma, but nothing like that. He had always assumed it would make him itchy – all those people and the smells of food and a crackling fire and goddamn twinkle lights everywhere.

But it was nice, actually. His first year present, Ava had brought him a beer and sat cross-legged on the carpet, leaning back against his knees and watching football with the rest of the guys. It had been nothing like a clubhouse party. It hadn't felt like living it up with the boys; it had felt like family.

Now, the thought of family got under his skin. At first he had tried to not think about her. If his mind started to wander in that direction he would shut it down hard. He'd made a mistake, he couldn't get back what he'd lost, time to move on.

But he'd found himself angrier. Doing his job was no longer just a job, but something he needed, like a drug. He needed _something _solid, so he let work take over. Nomads didn't work in garages – they dealt in bodies. And their paychecks were brown envelopes of cash.

Slowly though, when his haste was starting to become dangerous, he'd pulled out those old thoughts, dusted them off. Memories of her smile, her laugh, her feather light touch weren't like getting laid or shitfaced, shooting a great game of pool, completing a job successfully. Thoughts of the girl did something else entirely. And he'd decided that was okay.

The bell above the gas station's door jangled behind him and he recognized Luther's footfalls. Each of his brothers walked a little differently, he knew all of them by sound.

"You know," Luther said with a sigh and a crackle of plastic shopping bag as he straddled his bike. "I sure would like to eat somethin' I didn't just get outta a mini mart fridge."

Hap snorted. "Only thing open tonight's Chinese places. You want some fried duck?"

"Nah. I mean real food."

Mayday joined them, quiet despite his size. "Real food?" he asked, lighting up a cigarette. "I forgot what that was."

"Hey," Luther's voice picked up a notch. "We're almost to Charming. What does Redwood do this time a year?"

Something unsettling prickled at the back of Hap's mind. If he told them, they would of course want to go. And Gemma would purse her lips and shake her head, maybe even smack them for not calling ahead, but she'd let them in. It would be smarter to shrug them off and hit up the China Buffet down the block.

But he saw that smile in his mind and had this intense urge to see it in real life. "They do dinner," he told them. "It's good shit."

**-O-**

Ava couldn't quite believe he'd showed up. She'd been carrying a plate of sliced cheese and crackers into the den for the guys when Hap had come in with two other Nomads in tow. She had promptly dropped all the food all over the floor and had told Gemma she was sorry eighteen times while they cleaned up the mess.

Now, Sitting next to Lyla on the sofa, baby Johnny in her lap, she was a trembling wreck just knowing he was across the room.

"I didn't know you were so good with babies," Lyla said, drawing her attention. The former actress, now porn _producer _was tickling one of the kid's feet, earning a perplexed look from him.

Jax and Tara's son was nearing a month old now; beautiful and blue-eyed, but no doubt going to be a brunette like his mother. They'd named him John Jackson, after his father and grandfather. Except no one wanted a John Two, nor a Jack – that was too close to Jax. So for now, he was Johnny.

"I'm not," Ava said quickly. "I don't even _like _kids."

The blond's eyes widened as she leaned back. "But -,"

"I love my baby cousins," she corrected, straightening Johnny's red jumper – it had a motorcycle appliquéd on the front, go figure – and tried not to smile down at him. "I just don't see myself ever wanting kids of my own."

"Sometimes it just happens," Lyla said honestly. She shrugged. "It's not like I planned to have Piper. But they say…if you find the right guy…"

Ava sighed. "I so don't want to hear anyone else talk to me about 'the right guy' anymore tonight." Suddenly, staring down at the baby in her lap just felt like too much on top of dodging Happy's eyes from across the room. She spotted Tara coming into the room, passed Johnny off to his mom, and retreated down the hall.

**-O-**

It was disconcerting watching the kid hold another kid. Hap knew teenagers got knocked up all the time, but seeing Ava with a baby in her lap, making faces and laughing at the thing, pushed a whole bunch of buttons that left his stomach sour.

He wondered idly if, had he stayed in Charming, taken her for his own, if she would have been content with playing house. Or if she would start to pass a hand over her flat belly and give him this pleading _I want a baby _look. There were some logical reasons to push against that line of thought, but some that were knee-jerk too. He didn't like kids. And when he finally met a hard, bloody death on the pavement, he wouldn't leave behind a rugrat for a girl, _any _girl, to raise alone. He'd be no better than his own Old Man then.

Hap knew he'd startled Ava. She was hiding it well, talking with Lyla and playing with the baby, but she was rattled. When she handed the kid to Tara and left the room, he had this automatic urge to follow. But he closed his hands over his knees and stayed on the couch.

"Brother," Bobby said beside him. "You have _got _to cut the martyr bullshit."

Hap gave him a flat look.

"Goin' Nomad? The staring? Bad as Jax these days."

**-O-**

Ava was alone in one of the spare bedrooms for only fifteen minutes or so before she heard muted footsteps on the carpet outside. She expected her mom, or Chibs even, and was surprised when Tara walked around the foot of the bed, Johnny cradled on her shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" the doc asked.

Ava nodded automatically. Tara wasn't too good with the whole supportive pep talk thing. And she sure didn't share Gemma or Maggie's unwavering faith in the club, so she rarely had insights into the tough, but rewarding trials of loving a Son.

"I doubt that," Tara said. "The way you blew out of there…" she shook her head and sat down beside her. "It's hard seeing him, isn't it?"

Ava huffed a sigh. "Yeah. I thought I'd be able to suck it up, but no such luck."

She was quiet a moment, rocking the baby and then Tara gave her a steady look. "For what it's worth, I think my time away from Jax helped me see what I really wanted. Him too. Space doesn't mean the end…just…time." She stood. "If you ever want to talk…"

"Yeah. Thanks, doc."

Ava watched her go, not intending to ever take her up on her offer, but now curious. Leaving Jax – both times – had nearly crushed him. For the first time, Ava wondered if maybe it hadn't crushed Tara just a little bit too.

**-O-**

Dinner was delicious as always. Ava sat with Ellie, Kenny, Piper and Abel in the living room; the big square coffee table serving their dining needs, sitting on pillows on the floor. It of course turned into an effort to keep Kenny and Piper from throwing food at one another and to keep Abel from running off upstairs. After her fourth trip after the four-year-old, she gave up on eating and just played referee.

The din of voices was loud from the dining room, everyone's laugh distinct, her father of course the loudest. Maggie and Chibs had each greeted Hap as if nothing were wrong and he'd waltzed right back into the group out of habit, uncontested. She felt like the only one ready to break out into a flop sweat.

But she kept thinking about Tara and wondering.

**-O-**

After dinner, Hap was full to the brim with warm and fuzzy family bullshit. Mayday and Luther were in love with the Old Ladies of the house and their cooking, but he couldn't seem to relax. He slipped unnoticed through the sliding doors off the den and into the back yard.

Gemma's garden was elaborate and perfectly kept, rolling off the patio and down onto the lawn in a great tidal wave of green. Not enthused with the shrubbery, Hap walked over and leaned back against the exterior wall of the kitchen. He was out of sight of anyone in the den, but had a clear view of the patio. He lit a cigarette, hoping it would ease the tension in him.

He stood like that for maybe ten minutes before he saw a stir of movement on the rapidly darkening patio. The sun was almost gone, the sky teal but the shadows heavy, and he recognized the slim figure that took a seat on a wicker chair and curled its long legs beneath it.

He'd been there for hours, and except for her startled gasp when he'd come in, Ava hadn't spoken to him. He deserved it; he'd wrecked her. But it still stung.

The dull, brassy glow from the wall sconces by the door put flares of shine on her hair, highlighted the little slope of her nose in profile. Though her pose was relaxed, he could read the stiffness in her body.

There was no mistaking what she was – a young girl without the flagrant sex appeal of the women who hung around the clubhouse. Had she been just some random kid, he wouldn't have been thinking about seven different ways he could get arrested. She wasn't jail bait in the usual sense. She was just a kid and he could get all the pussy he wanted, so why bother?

Because she _knew _him, inside and out. And because he knew she was telling the truth when she said she only wanted him. And because it was nearly impossible to attain that kind of bond with a female.

"Hey, kid," he called, and her head whipped around, light beams sliding through her hair.

He couldn't quite read her expression in the shadows and at a distance. "C'mere."

She didn't move.

"Ava. C'mere, sweetheart."

She unfolded slowly out of the chair, and when she came towards him, her arms were folded. Ava stopped a foot in front of him and her face startled him. He was completely blocked out; her expression bland and guarded, brows low over her eyes as if she were scowling. Hap had become so used to her wide-eyed, wondrous adoration, that he was speechless a moment. "How you been?" he asked finally, voice rougher than usual.

She shrugged narrow shoulders. "Fine."

He remembered Chibs saying something about Maggie; after she'd learned about Fiona, she'd shut down on him. Apparently, that trait was genetic. Ava was giving him that disinterested stare like he was some douche bag idiot from her school or something. But she _loved _him, damnit. His feelings were irrelevant; she was supposed to love him and not glare at him like something she'd stuck her hand in on the underside of a table.

His temper flared, but he kept his tone calm. "You have anymore trouble outta those shitheads?"

She glanced away, actually _stopped looking at him _and shook her head.

Happy had known that it would be best if she moved on, quit thinking about him like that, so he hadn't expected that it would piss him off to see her treat him this way. This was good for her. If hating him helped her heal, that was for the best.

But all he could think about was the fact that he'd been on the road for two months, had seen enough shit to make a man go blind, and all he wanted now was that soft smile and trusting gaze that he'd come to count on. He grabbed her shoulder and her head snapped up; eyes wide, almost fearful, but not adoring. Not yet.

"You pissed at me?" He moved his hand up and cupped the side of her neck, kicked her chin up with his thumb.

She held steady, but her eyes fluttered shut a moment.

"Not talkin' then?"

"What am I supposed to say?" she bit out.

Decidedly not _that_. He put his free hand on her hip and cranked down hard, spinning and putting her back to the wall. He recognized that he was holding too tightly and loosened his grip, but didn't let go.

Ava's hands went to his chest, palms open, holding him off. She gasped and leaned back, away from the hand on her throat. "Don't be this way," she pleaded.

Hap leaned in close enough to smell her shampoo, but far enough back that he could read her eyes. "Did you miss me? Or are you over that shit?"

Her eyes closed again. She swallowed. Her breathing had picked up, chest heaving under her sweater.

"Answer the question." His voice was still calm, barely above a whisper, but his muscles tensed, waiting. He wasn't sure, if she told him no, what he would do.

And then her eyes opened. Slowly, like fighting its way to the surface, the old look came back. The shine in her eyes, the barely parted lips. She was again the girl backed up to a tree in the woods, begging him.

"Yeah," she met his stare, not with boldness, but trust. "I missed you."

Seeing the new and not-so-improved Ava had been difficult. This soft flash of the old Ava stirred up something else entirely. She didn't have tits like he normally went for, no real hips to speak of. Dark eyes and dark hair. Plain most likely to a stranger. But she looked beautiful in the wispy light from the back door, that pure willingness more of a turn on than all the cleavage in the world.

He shouldn't have, but he kissed her. Hard. There was a fine line between assaulting a person and letting her know how hungry he was; he thought he walked it well. She resisted only a moment before she melted, leaning up into him, following his lead.

It was just a kiss at first, but as it wore on, as he pushed her back into the hard stucco of the wall, he felt her hands slide beneath the hem of his shirt. Her smooth, cool palms and long fingers passed up his stomach, traced his ribs, tweaked his nipples. He had a feeling, that if allowed, she'd undress him piece by piece.

Hap trailed his hand from her hip down her thigh, pulling her leg up and wrapping it around his waist. He was half hard and pressed against her, felt her nails bite into his skin in reaction.

She tipped her head back and it was easy to break the kiss, move to her neck instead. And better almost because then he could hear her breathing in a frantic rush. He'd been with dozens of women – hundreds – and it was amazing that this girl could get him so wound up, have him leaning into her, pulling at the neck of her sweater. It would be so easy to pull her around the side of the house, lay her down in the cold grass. While the festivities continued inside, he could steal a round with his girl; something to hold onto for the next five hundred miles. For the nights he watched the stars from a bed roll or a motel balcony.

Ava's arms circled around his neck and pulled him down. "I did miss you," she murmured. And then quieter ", stay. Please…oh, God…stay with me."

_With me. _If he stayed, it wouldn't just be coming back to Redwood, but to her. And he couldn't come back and then try to hold her off of him.

Hap pulled away and she tightened her leg around him, raked her nails down his stomach. Her face was flushed, eyes moist. "I can't stay," he told her, voice all gravel. "You know that."

He held still, and slowly she withdrew her hands from his shirt, lowered her leg. She swiped the back of her wrist across her eyes and inhaled in one long, shuddering draw. When she met his gaze again, those new walls of hers had come back up, the softness and pleading gone from her face. "Then fuck me," she said quietly, voice brittle. "If you can't _be _with me, then at least do me that much."

He knew what she was doing, and it killed him a little bit. But he'd never been very good at telling her no.

Happy pulled her around the other side of the house. It was pitch black, no play of light or shadows. At the end of a long tunnel of foliage, the street light glowed orange, but it was dark here under a bedroom window.

He tried to kiss her again, but she turned her head. So he bit her on her neck, right beneath her ear, until he heard her gasp. His hands were fast; undoing his fly, pushing her jeans down her hips. Even in the dark, he managed to get the condom unwrapped and on in one try.

Her body welcomed him in theory, wet, but impossibly tight. She'd only been penetrated a handful of times. Knowing that each time, it had been him, he thrust in hard, stretching her until he thought she'd tear. She let out a loud, pained whimper, but she kept her head turned, even in the dark he could tell. She put her hands on his biceps and held still, her hips the only thing she couldn't control as he thrust into her over and over. However much it hurt, she sought the movement, riding the tempo he set too fast to be gentle.

She came with a tremble and a strangled sound, arching away from the wall and he didn't give her time to recover, keeping pace though he knew she'd be sensitive. The next time she came, he followed. His face was buried in her hair and he was choking on the vanilla mint smell and the soft feel of it.

She'd taken the fucking so well, he wanted to pull her to him; kiss her head, take her slow this time, hear her ask him as he dragged it out slower and slower, make her go weak until he had to hold her up.

But he didn't.

Afterward, she pushed him back, pulled up her jeans. And she walked back around the house, leaving him dumbstruck and breathing hard in the dark. He had this urge to charge after her, go barging back into the den and dare any of them, father or not, to try and take her from him. But the thought of her turned head stopped him. He had hurt her, she was trying to let go, and he should let her.

**-O-**

Ava was numb. Inside, everyone was in the den, all eyes glued to the TV. She sat down beside Maggie on the sofa.

"Were you outside?" Maggie asked.

"Getting some fresh air," she mumbled. Her body was still humming, her head reeling. Why would he come back? Why was he making this harder? She fucking _loved _him.

Maggie's hand brushed her cheek, her fingers feeling warm to her skin cooled from the night air. Then her mother laid the hand soothingly on her back. "It must be cold out there," she said quietly.

Ava closed her eyes and nodded. It was; in more ways than one. She heard Clay and Lyla's words come back to her: _the right guy…_

Loving someone didn't make it right apparently. And unlike Tara, he wasn't crushed. Not in the slightest.

**TBC**


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: B****ig thank**f. **s to Ebucknell because I know jack shit about Cali colleges and I used one of your suggested ones.**

**February 2013**

"Texas A&M, UNLV, USC, Stanford, Oklahoma…"

This was becoming a habit. Every Saturday morning, Maggie pulled out all the college letters that had come in the mail that week and shuffled through them at the breakfast table. Ava had, as was standard, received 'Dear Student' advertisement letters from just about every school in the country. So far, Maggie had been pumping the ones farthest away and Chibs was looking near a coronary at the thought of out-of-state tuition.

"I don't care, Mom," Ava said before scooping up another spoon full of Corn Pops. "Really, really don't care."

Chibs was shaking his head, staring tiredly at his eggs and toast. "Oklahoma?" he kept asking. "Why the fuck would she go to Oklahoma?"

"Thanks, Dad."

"Don't help her," Maggie scowled at him from across the table. "I want her to go to the school that best suits her needs regardless of where it is."

"You mean the school where I will never, ever run into Happy."

Both her parents were silent a moment which told her everything she needed to know. They were still torn about the whole club guy vs. non-club guy issue. Maggie had been mostly supportive about her with Hap, but his going Nomad had shifted her mother's allegiance. She had heard the hushed conversations at night from their cracked bedroom door.

"_I didn't think he'd LEAVE, Chibs. I thought he would -,"_

"_What? Put a crow on her? Marry her? What?"_

"_I thought he'd stay. I thought he'd wait until she was old enough."_

"_She can't hold him down. No woman will ever be able to do that. Only shot she had at keeping him was stayin' a kid."_

She felt their stares now and refused to meet either of them. "It's the truth," she said.

Chibs' cell rang and it spared her any further remorseful looks. "Yeah?" he answered.

Ava heard Jax on the other end, all tinny through the speaker, and her father was silent a long moment. "Aye," he said heavily. "Who should it be? Yeah. Aye. Makes sense." He hung up with a sigh and looked at Maggie. "Irish comin' into town this afternoon."

Maggie stiffened, the envelopes crackling as she curled her hands into fists. Her face paled visibly, lips compressing in nothing less than fury. "They know Jax has to keep his bargain," she hissed. "They don't need to come over here."

"I know, luv, I know."

Ava put her spoon down, no longer hungry. Neither Chibs, Jax, nor Opie would say much about how Abel was retrieved in Belfast. But a deal had been struck with the IRA in return. And though it was no secret Jax wanted to back off from the gun business, his hands were tied. The Irish would be partners for a long time to come.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

Chibs exhaled smoke on a sigh. "Your mother will come to work like normal. But we'll put someone on you, sweetheart. You can go for a drive or somethin'."

The situation was frightening. Not only because she knew that if they'd had their way, certain members of the Cause would have seen her dead. And worse than that, in this scenario, Happy had always been the one to watch her. She didn't trust her life with anyone else.

She didn't realize her hands were trembling until Chibs placed one of his over her left one. "It's okay, darlin'. They won't get you. We're bringing out the big guns."

**-O-**

At ten till noon, Ava still had no idea who was on babysitting duty. Since her parents had left, she'd managed to work herself into a mild panic. She wanted Hap, _needed _Hap. He kept her safe and no stand-in was going to be good enough. As she went to answer the doorbell, fumbling her purse and cell phone, she wiped hastily at the pre-crying moisture in her eyes. She fucking wanted Hap!

On her front step, hands on his hips, glaring at her from behind his shades, was a very pissed looking Tig. "Let's go," he said, voice pissed too. "I ain't got all day."

Ava was an odd mix of relieved and more tense. She didn't relish the thought of spending time with the asshole, but had to admit that he was the closest second best to Hap there was when it came to protection. There were only two men the other Sons called "killer", and he was one of them.

"You didn't have to come," she told him, stepping outside and locking the door behind her.

He snorted. "What? You want the Prospect? It's not too late," he reached for his cell ", I can -,"

"No, I'm glad you're here," she said quickly.

He cocked a brow as if to say _yeah right_, but extended a hand. "Keys. You aren't driving."

She handed them over without a fight, knowing that no Son would ride shotgun while a seventeen-year-old kid drove. But it irked her to see Tig slide behind the wheel of her truck, of her _mom's _old truck. She didn't so much dislike Tig, as she just didn't like him. He was a hard man to care about, on his best day. And she didn't trust his intentions completely.

He turned off the radio with a violent motion the second he started the engine. Ava sighed and pulled out the battered copy of _Hamlet _she'd checked out of the school library to catch up on her class reading. After several minutes of driving though, she realized that Tig wasn't just cruising around the block and she put the book in her lap. If he dumped her off on the side of the road, it would be helpful to know how to get home. She watched as the houses grew further apart and the terrain became less yard and more scrub undergrowth. They were headed out of Charming.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You can blame your mom for this," he said instead of answering. "She's the one who got knocked up by a guy with a price on his head. Just think, then this," he twirled a finger in the air to indicate the truck and the two of them ", wouldn't be happening."

"That's not what I asked, Tig."

He shot her a fast glare across the cab. "You always gotta know shit. How the fuck does Hap _stand _you?"

She pushed back in her seat, caught off guard by his question. No one ever spoke about Happy in reference to her. And Tig realized he'd done it and shook his head. "Quit being a pussy about it. He left, you cried, get over it. What? You think you two would settle down and have a bunch of scary-ass babies?"

"No," she sighed, hating that he was making sense in his own asshole way. "Life's not a Taylor Swift song. I get it."

They were quiet a moment, both staring through the windshield. Tig made it sound so simple. _Get over it. _Like it was just a hookup and she was being childish.

"You like ice cream?" he asked.

**-O-**

He took her to the Dairy Queen in Lodi. Standing in line, she was sure that some of the onlookers were wrestling with the father/daughter versus cradle robber/skank-ho angles. She spared them any more questions by taking her milkshake with a great big ", Thank you, Uncle Alex!" which earned her a glare from him. The only people who used his given name had badges.

Outside, they sat at one of the circular wire tables, under a red and white striped umbrella. The other tables were full of soccer moms and elementary school kids dribbling melted bits of Dilly Bar down their shirts. There was a hardened glob of something sticky on the bench beside Ava, petrified sprinkles stuck to it. Everything about the pleasant afternoon and the kids and the ice cream didn't jive with the man beside her and their reason for being there. She took a slow sip of her milkshake, the sweetness of it making her teeth hurt.

"Kinda makes ya wanna hurl, huh?" Tig asked out of the blue.

She gave him a sideways look. He was stirring his caramel sundae into a gooey mess and watching the parking lot from behind his shades. He looked relaxed, but she knew better. "What are you talking about?"

"Them," he waved towards the other tables. "This. I see you looking at it, like you want nothing to do with that shit."

"What shit?"

He sighed dramatically. "When you live on our side of things long enough, you quit wanting what they have." He pointed to two women sitting with their children. "Charming makes that happen, keeps it around. World needs that kinda thing. But us…when you've been with the club, you don't want to go back."

Ava studied him carefully, shocked at his use of 'us' to include the two of them together in some way. He was being terribly blunt, but this felt so rare, she was having a hard to catching his point. "I have trouble with the real world," she agreed. "School and pep rallies and all that."

""Course you do. You grew up SAMCRO."

She set her cup down, encouraged. "Mom and Dad want me to go _off _to college, not just go. They think I can integrate with that whole adolescent culture bullshit better if I'm totally removed from the club."

Tig snorted. "Yeah, and then the first time you run into trouble, Daddy'll be on his way to New York to rescue your ass. Idiot."

"They want me to forget about Hap."

He took a big bite of his ice cream. Licked the spoon clean. "Did anyone ever tell you what going Nomad really means?"

Something about the way he said it, like he was setting up a story, sent little shivers down her spine. "It's when you don't want to be tied down -,"

He cut her off with a wave and a disgusted expression. "No. That's what Jax _thought _it was. Nomad," he faced her for the first time. She could barely see his eyes through the lenses of his sunglasses. "Is a death squad."

He was silent a beat, letting it sink in. "When a charter has a messy job that they don't want local law to get tied up with, they call in the Nomads. They get in, get it done, and get out. Taking out a hit, leaning on somebody…shit that's too dangerous for an MC to do in its home town. They go all over, every state in the country. Run shit up to Canada when we need it."

"Hap's good at that shit," he continued. "Doesn't get all tied up with his _feelings _like your cousin."

Ava realized she had an elbow braced on the table and was staring at Tig. Her mouth was open and she was breathing quietly, trying to hear every little nuance of what he was telling her. She sat up straighter. "It's not like I thought he was innocent or something," she tried to sound sure of herself. "You guys don't call him 'killer' for shits and giggles."

Tig shook his head, frustrated. "Not the point."

"Well, get to the point! I shouldn't need Cliffnotes for this conversation!"

His hand twitched, almost unnoticed, and Ava shrank back. "Sorry." This wasn't her dad she was talking to. Tig didn't give a shit about her and probably wouldn't think twice about hitting her. "I'm sorry, go ahead."

He surprised her by smiling. "_That_," he said quietly ", is why you can't be one of them." He nodded over his shoulder at the other patrons. He turned back to his sundae. "And it's why Hap got caught up and had to leave."

She stirred her shake, hesitant to press him further. Still, she asked ", why?"

"Guy can always get laid," he said with a shrug. "But a smart bitch is hard to find. Harder to keep."

"Yeah. Especially when you go Nomad."

"Hap's working some shit out," he defended. "He'll be back. Some shit you can't ever leave alone."

His comment sparked something she tried to keep buried in her memory. That look on Tig's face the first time she'd met him, when her mother had hugged him. She'd caught variations of that look for the past four years, when he was just standing around smoking and didn't think anyone was watching. "You loved her, once upon a time," she said quietly. "Mom."

"Don't matter."

"Did you…when Dad was in Belfast…did you guys hook up?" Her pulse accelerated just at the possibility. She felt a bit sick, but had to ask anyway. She had her suspicions.

He shrugged. That meant yes.

"You know," she heard the iciness in her voice. "If you ever tried to split them up, be my stepdad or some shit, I'd slit your throat in your sleep."

Tig laughed. "Goddamn…like I'd ever sign myself up for both you crazy bitches! Please!"

Ava didn't find the situation amusing. The thought of Maggie with him gave her the cold chills. She shoved her milkshake away and scowled at him. "I can't believe she did that. You I get…but Mom…"

He rolled his eyes. "Jesus, chill. She was lonely…and people get fucked when she gets lonely. She doesn't have your _focus _when it comes to men."

The following silence was uncomfortable, at least on her part. She wished she'd never asked.

"Hap will come back," Tig said when she wouldn't quit staring daggers at him. "He left, but he didn't leave you."

"Yeah, well, if I'm in goddamn Oklahoma, he can't come back," she said, still sulking.

"So don't go to Oklahoma. There's schools around here, right? Stay local. Home on holidays and shit. You can't leave the club anyway, we all know it, so quit with the bullshit already."

Ava glared at him, only able to bite her tongue because it was Tig and no one else.

He sighed. "Look, how many people around here did what their folks wanted?"

She shrugged with her eyebrows.

"None. Do what you want. Fuck everybody else."

He went back to his sundae, smoothing the nuts into the caramel. "This is great shit," he said to himself, as if their conversation hadn't happened.

Ava shook her head, stunned. Fuck him, but Tig did make sense every once in a while.

**-O-**

Ava was sitting at her laptop that afternoon when her mom came home, scrolling furiously down the page, scribbling notes.

"What's up?" Maggie asked. She braced a hand on the arm of the sofa and wrenched her knee-high boots off, wincing. "Fuck, I think I'm gonna be arthritic in a few years."

Ava nodded in acknowledgement, but kept working.

"Your day with Tig that bad? You aren't talking to me?"

She scowled a moment, remembering what she'd learned that day, but was too excited and nervous to dwell on the past. "I actually had a nice time with Tig -,"

Maggie raised her brows.

" – well, as good a time as you can have with Tig and not get laid, I guess."

Another surprised look.

Ava sighed. "Just sit down, please, I want to show you something."

"Well," Maggie plopped down beside her on the couch. "Yes, ma'am."

"When he wasn't being an obstinate jerk," Ava scrolled her screen back up ", Tig actually said a few things that made sense. I was born into this club, Mom, I've been around it my whole life and whatever I else I turn out to be, I can't just piss that away. I'm not going to be Jane Sorority, no matter where I go."

Maggie looked amused. "And you got all this from Tig."

She sighed. "Tig recognizes people. I'm Sam Crow blood first and whatever else second. _You _taught me that shit. Club comes first, remember?"

"Yeah," Maggie agreed reluctantly. "Guess you took that to heart, huh?"

"I'm not Tara. This thing with Hap hurts like hell, but I'm not going to run away because of it. And I'm not leaving the club behind. I'm going to college to get an education, not to fall for some sad sack poet and settle down to live the American Dream." She pulled in a deep breath. "There's nothing you and Dad can do about it. I'm staying close to home. And _if _I decided to move on from Hap," this part was a fib ", then it'll be my choice. And not some stupid decision halfway across the country."

Maggie folded her arms and gave her a steady look. "Wow," she said. "Guess you told me."

"Mom-,"

"No," she held up a hand. "We're cool. I can't very well start with the overbearing mother shit now, can I? No, it's good to hear actually." Maggie smiled. "You haven't given a shit about anything for a while, baby. I'm glad."

"So…you're not going to argue with me?"

Maggie shrugged. "It never did my mom any good to argue with me." She put a hand on Ava's head, pulled her into a hug and kissed her hair. "I love you, you know. Everything I do is to keep you safe and happy."

"I know," Ava swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

"Alright, no mushy stuff," Maggie pushed back. "Show me what you've been scratching out on that paper, ya nerd."

"Well," Ava flipped through her notes. "I've done my research, so don't think this was just a snap choice. But I want to look into a BA in journalism. Caroline's going there, so I thought, maybe, we could room together – afford an apartment between the two of us so we don't have to do the whole dorm thing -,"

"You're rambling."

"Right." She tapped the screen of her laptop. "Sacramento State."

"_Sac _State?" Maggie couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's a good school," Ava defended.

"It's just my dirty mind." She sighed as her laughter faded. "You're sure about this? If you're home on breaks…you're bound to see him. He'll come through Charming."

Ava nodded, faking bravery she didn't feel. "I know."

Maggie sighed again and reached forward to tuck a lock of hair behind Ava's ear. "I hate to think I was a bad influence for you…pining after your dad like I did. What I did isn't healthy. And now you're doing the same thing."

"No," Ava mused, shaking her head. "It's not the same. You had to leave because of the Irish. Hap left…because…he doesn't want to be with me."

"Baby -,"

"Nope. I'm not dwelling."

Maggie braced an elbow on the back of the sofa and tilted her head. "I'll tell you this. I wanted to be pissed at your dad after I found out about Fiona. And for awhile, I lost sight of the good parts." She widened her eyes for emphasis. "Whatever's going on now, however it goes down the road – don't forget the good parts. Hap's taken such good care of you…your whole life…be sad now, but don't doubt that you mean something to him."

Ava fanned a hand n front of her face as her cheeks started to feel hot. "What happened to not dwelling?"

"Right." Maggie straightened and grabbed for the remote. "No dwelling." She clicked on the flat screen. "I'm sure Kourtney and Khloe are taking a city somewhere. Let's dwell on that."

**-O-**

"How'd things go with the Irish?" Happy asked as he accepted his next beer.

The clubhouse was loud with the voices of out of town brothers and it was unlikely anyone could overhear their conversation. Tig shrugged. "I wasn't here, but they say it was smooth. Doyle said he'd have the next shipment in next week."

"Where were you?"

He snorted. "Watching your jail bait."

Hap didn't react outwardly, but his muscles twitched. Just a fast leap and then back again. "That go okay?"

Tig chuckled. "She fucking hates me, bro."

Coming from Tig, that could mean several things. He gave the Sgt at Arms a sideways look, eyes narrowed.

"Relax," Tig rolled his eyes. "I didn't touch her."

Hap ignored the comment and took a long pull of his beer. Inwardly though, he was relieved.

"I hear you been in Florida."

Happy nodded. "I know Jax was worried about the alliance down there…the drugs and shit…but it's a smart protection move, man."

"East coast ties," Tig nodded. "He's gettin' there. Jax is a peace-loving motherfucker, but he's not an idiot. He'll figure out what we gotta do."

He nodded too.

"It's that family bullshit," the Sgt at Arms continued. "Worries more about his Old Lady than he does the club."

"Lots of guys have families," Hap shrugged. "They make it work."

"Could you?"

Happy found himself glaring again. But he answered honestly. "I dunno, man."

**TBC**


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Mention of some violent shit at the end of this one, just to warn. Nothing you guys can't handle.**

**July 2013**

Charming had a public pool a few blocks down from the Catholic church. For twenty bucks a month, Ava and her friends had limitless access to the big L-shaped oasis sunk in a patch of cracked, blistering hot concrete. She and Caroline were at a table, newspapers and computer print-outs spread between them. Carter was swimming laps and kept _accidentally _tossing his football at their feet in the hopes they'd give up their apartment search and come play a round with him.

"Look at this one," Caroline leaned forward, highlighter poised above the paper. "It has three bedrooms."

"For how much?" Ava asked.

She grimaced. "Too much."

It was becoming an impossible search to find a place that had more than one bedroom, was in their price range, and was a quick commute to Sac State. Ava had also burdened herself with a Sacramento job search too. She didn't want her parents forking over rent every month, or worse, the club feeling responsible. She was young and able bodied. She could work.

She heard the muted, wet thump of the football landing at her feet again and rolled her eyes behind her shades. "Dudes," Carter called. "Ball please?"

Ava picked it up and pushed back her chair with an elaborate sigh. "We're busy," she scolded as she walked to the edge of the pool, her flip-flops smacking the soles of her feet loudly.

Carter gave her a sheepish look. "I'm soooo sorry."

"Jerk," she muttered with a reluctant smile. She made the mistake of leaning forward to hand him the ball. She shrieked when she realized what was happening, but didn't move fast enough as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her head-first into the water.

Her flip-flops, Elton John sunglasses, and gauzy sarong all got lost as she somersaulted under water. She came up sputtering, laughing and cussing, slicking her hair off her face so she could see her target. "You bastard! I'm gonna kick your ass!"

Carter was delighted that he'd gotten someone besides a bunch of inner tube bound third graders into the pool with him. He danced backward through the water away from her. "Ooh, you gonna stab me?"

"That's it." Ava lunged after him, going nowhere fast, still blinking water out of her eyes. Caroline called for them to quit acting like children and some of the younger kids added to the frenzy with their squirt guns. Carter had managed to not only duck her attack, but flip her up over his shoulder, damn his football skills. She was flailing and ordering him to put her down when she heard the bikes.

It could have been Chibs or Jax or Tig or…

"Put me down," she balled up a fist and struck him in the small of his back. "I'm not playing."

"Ow, damnit," he dropped her and she splashed, fighting upright again.

She paddled over to the edge of the pool and jacked herself up on the concrete edge on her arms. Through the chain link fence, she could see four bikes idling at the stoplight, waiting on green. And even though it had been months, and it shouldn't have, recognizing Happy sent sharp jolts of electricity racing through her.

"God." She scurried out of the pool went to the fence, the hot concrete searing the moisture off her feet. She laced her fingers through the link, wiped her face, water coursing off her hair and down her shoulders and back.

He had one boot braced on the pavement, his inked arms sleeveless and flashing his myriad of multi-colored tats. A flash of his boxers above his waistband, the pull of leather over his back, the bored, impassive expression on his face…just that much was enough to set her pulse galloping.

Only this time she remembered their last interaction, their Christmas Eve hookup against the side of Clay's house. He'd know how badly she hurt, how much she missed him, and he'd wanted her to kiss him, look at him. He was using her, for whatever reason, well aware that it was killing her.

His head turned towards her and her breath caught in her throat.

**-O-**

Hap had been hesitant to ride into Charming. He'd been back a few times since Christmas, but always during the day when the girl had been at school. Now it was summer and she was no doubt helping her mom at the garage. Christmas had confirmed that going to her was almost as difficult as not seeing her. She wasn't going to flash a pretty smile and make all the bad shit go away. She was sad and betrayed and clung to him and made it that much harder. He didn't want to see her.

He, Luther, Mayday and Wizard got caught by a red light a few blocks from the garage and he, as usual, did a visual sweep of the surroundings. A news stand. The motel. Bug-eaten shrubs that the city needed to replace. He registered kids yelling and splashing in the public pool to his right. It was a sad little place; a swimming hole in the middle of a parking lot. But the water looked blue. Inviting.

And then his eyes locked onto the girl standing at the fence. She was in a deep purple bikini, the color rich in contrast to her skin. Slim; her curves subtle and understated; long legs and flat expanse of smooth stomach. Her hair looked black, falling in shiny, soaked clumps, water dripping off the ends and down her arms. _Pretty girl _was his first thought. Sleek and classy. But when he met her eyes, recognition slammed him hard. Pretty girl was _his_ girl.

He wasn't all that self aware at the moment, but he had a feeling his expression mirrored the one of hopeful shock on Ava's face. He quickly neutralized his features in hopes that she wouldn't notice.

He watched her until the light changed and his brothers cranked the throttle. Then he pulled away with one last look. He stored the mental image of her in the purple bikini, knowing he'd need it later.

**-O-**

Later that night, after she'd showered the chlorine off and settled in front of her laptop, Ava's phone rang. For some time now, writing had become her outlet of choice. Some of it was fictional, some of it not, but either way, it had powered the essay that had gained her entrance to Sac State. More so than her artwork, the written word was able to draw out whatever was bothering her and turn it into something creative. She was again working on an autobiographical piece about growing up with the club. It might never amount to anything, but at least she would have a record; a living memory. When she reached for her phone, she expected any number but the one that flashed across the screen.

"Hello," she answered, stomach cramping automatically.

"Hey." Hap sounded even raspier through the phone.

It was silent a moment and Ava started to feel panicked. Happy _did not _call people. He didn't do the whole male/female back and forth, give and take thing. Not even with her. Not even before he'd slept with her the first time. If you were on the phone with him, it was about business.

"Happy," she said carefully. "Um…is everything alright?"

"Yeah, baby. 'Course."

"Are you drunk?"

"A little."

She sighed. He'd finally decided to drunk dial someone, and it was her. "So," she took a deep breath. "You're in town, right? I saw you today."

"Yeah."

Okay, one word answers a conversation did not make. "Why'd you call, Hap?"

He was quiet a moment. And then his voice turned a whole new shade of angry. "You're hanging out with the football dick. You _with _him?"

She sighed. "I've only ever been with one person, Happy. And that's you. Don't make me go through this shit again."

He sighed loudly. "Right. Whatever."

As pissed as she was, when she thought he might hang up, the panic became worse. It wasn't healthy, she knew; she should have just let him go. But he was too much a part of her every thought and memory for things to work that way. "Hap," she said quickly. "I got into a college. Sacramento State. I start next month."

"I heard."

"It's not that far from Charming," she said, encouraged. "I can make school and the club work. I can do it."

"Good for you, sweetheart," she thought she heard him yawn. "Look, I gotta go."

Her heart plummeted. "Yeah. Okay."

"I'll see ya, kid."

"Bye."

Ava closed her phone and set it on the edge of the desk as carefully as if it were a bomb. She had hoped, for just a moment, that her news would encourage him. She was going to college, with or without him. She'd hoped maybe he would decide it should be _with. _

She pulled in a deep breath, released it with a full body shudder and returned her attention to her computer. She might not be over him, but he wasn't ruining her train of thought. If Happy didn't want her, she could go on with her life without him.

**August 2013**

"There's no elevator?" Chibs asked, frowning as they stared up at the window of her new place.

Ava shook her head. "That's why they call it a second floor walk-up, Dad. No elevator."

"Well," he clapped Tux on the shoulder. "That's what Prospects are for."

She had only ever seen the Stone Court apartment complex via the internet, and though she knew what it looked like, it was strange and exciting in person. There were fifteen, three-story units, ample parking, tidy landscaping. It was an older complex, siding sagging here and there, a shutter askew, an air conditioning unit thumping in a window. But it was overall aesthetically pleasing. Age had been covered with cosmetic charm and she both liked that she and Caroline would have their own place, and hated that it was so middle-aged collegiate and nothing like home.

They'd decided to move her in a few days early, before Caroline even, since both sets of parents were odd together.

"Kid," Chibs told the Prospect ", start moving shit."

Ava and Maggie went up first and unlocked the door, leaving it open behind them for the guys. The air inside had a musty, abandoned smell to it. There was dust on the tiny kitchenette countertops and on the floor.

"Not bad," Maggie said, taking a spin through the living room. She shrugged. "It's bigger than my first place in Charming. And you each have a bedroom…very swanky."

Ava realized she was standing stupidly, watching her mother walk around, light hair backlit by the unfiltered sun coming through the window. She set her purse down and took a deep breath of stale air. She was starting to feel this anxious knot in the middle of her chest about the whole thing. In all her life, she'd never spent more than a night or two away from her mother. She was ashamed and saddened by the realization.

There was a loud thump outside on the landing and Chibs and Juice both started cursing the Prospect.

"Well," Maggie quirked her eyebrows. "Let's get started."

While the boys moved in furniture and boxes, Maggie and Ava cleaned. They'd brought Lysol and sponges and bleach and any number of products they'd need. Together, they wiped down the counters, the interiors of the fridge and cabinets. Maggie mopped the laminate faux hardwood and Ava vacuumed the bedroom carpet. They cleaned the bathroom – every freaking inch of it – until the knobs glistened and the white tile was restored to its original brightness.

A queen sized bed that Gemma had been keeping in storage for just such an occasion had become hers, likewise a chest of drawers and dresser that had belonged to somebody. The sofa and love seat were thrift store finds. Caroline was bringing the coffee table and a few chairs. The boys set up her cheapo folding table and chairs in the designated dining nook. Maggie put a bouquet of silk flowers in a plastic cup on the counter. Juice reset the code on her alarm system.

They pulled everything off the "borrowed" Unser truck; her desk from home, fresh towels and washcloths, sheets, pillows, a closet organizer, a door mat. And as they went, Maggie made a list of things she'd probably need to get once she got settled.

It was dark when they finished and ordered pizza. Ava and Tux sat cross-legged on the floor, eating off paper plates; Maggie, Chibs and Juice on the furniture. "I got your TV all set up," Juice said around a mouthful. "The rest of your stuff may be shit, but that Vizio is _nice_."

She grinned tiredly. "And let me guess, it just fell off a truck?"

He shrugged.

"When do your classes start?" Tux asked.

"Next Wednesday."

Chibs was smiling on the couch. "I still can't believe it," he said. "Look at you all grown up."

"Dad…please…"

"You're the first one out of all of us to go to college," Maggie reminded. "SAMCRO has finally broken the glass ceiling on education."

"What about Tara?" Ava reminded.

There was a collective rolling of eyes. "She don't count," Chibs said.

**-O-**

She hadn't thought that it would, but it felt out of place to see her parents and the guys here in the apartment. None of it meshed well. When Ava went to the kitchen to get a soda refill, she ended up with her hands braced on the edge of the sink, breathing heavily. She had always chosen the club over anything non-club. And she'd stayed local – relatively speaking. And she would be home on holidays and long weekends. But this felt like betrayal. For once, she was taking a great big, bold leap towards a regular life, and now that it was here and not just a circled date on the calendar, she felt sick.

Maggie found her that way. "Oh, sweetheart."

"I'm fine," she straightened. She tried to smile, but it was weak. "It's just…" she blinked hard. "I thought I was ready for this, but I don't guess I am."

Maggie put an arm across her shoulders. "Do you want me to stay? The guys need to get the truck back, but I could spend the night."

"No," she lied. She knew it would only be all the harder the next day if she stayed. "I'll be fine."

"You know," Maggie said softly, rubbing her arm. "We are _so _proud of you."

Ava smiled.

"I've said it all along and I'll say it again; you're an amazing girl." She dabbed at her own eyes. "You're gonna do great here. I know it. And when you get sad, we're just a phone call and a ride away."

"I know." She met her mother's watery gaze for the first time, fighting the swell of emotions. "You really think a biker chick can pass for a college kid?"

"You can pass for both." Maggie pushed her nose like a button – it was where Koz had picked the move up. "Don't take no shit, baby. You can be smart _and _kick ass."

**-O-**

When the evening finally had to come to a close, Ava hugged Tux and Juice, earning chaste kisses on the cheek and well wishes. She thanked them profusely for helping her move in.

And then Chibs crushed her into a bear hug. "Will you still call your old man?" she heard the slight tremor in his voice. "When you go off and become a big shot reporter, you'll still want to see your da?"

"Always." She kissed his cheek. "I love you, Daddy."

"Love your too, sweetheart," he ruffled her hair one last time and she didn't miss the shine in his eyes. His smile was crooked. "Proud of ya."

Maggie hugged her last, and for one irrational moment, Ava didn't want to let go. "I love you," Maggie whispered fiercely. "More than anything."

"Love you." Ava felt her throat start to close up, so she didn't say anything else. Maggie promised to call when they got back to Charming. Chibs reminded her to lock her door and set her alarm. She stood on the landing outside her front door, watching them cross the parking lot and climb into the Caddy. They pulled out and Juice followed in the truck, and then it was just her pickup alone in the parking lot.

It felt quiet after she shut herself in. Heavy. The gray walls and white carpet and sad attempt at homey inside made her want to bawl her eyes out. She wanted and needed to go to school, but she didn't want this.

She sank down on the couch, lip trembling when she spotted a clump of tomato sauce someone had dripped on the cushion. She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her contact list, desperately not wanting to be alone all of a sudden. She made it down to the Hs, to Happy, and paused. Her finger was poised above the call button as she debated the wisdom of that move.

As she moved to hit send, her phone rang. It was Caroline.

"Hey," she answered, forcing a lot of fake cheerfulness into her voice.

"What up, girl? How's the place?"

Ava dashed at a tear and sucked the rest back inside. "It's perfect," she said. "Just perfect."

**September 2013**

Hap wiped his knife on the leg of his jeans and then sheathed it, promising a thorough cleaning later. The slick blood smears on his hands looked black in the shadows, catching the shine off the street lamp as he passed the rag over them again and again, wiping them clean. At his feet, the dead Hispanic girl stared fixedly at the night sky, her mouth wrenched open in a frozen scream.

"Yeah," he heard Mayday on his cell behind him. "Assholes must have fed her something 'cause she OD'd right in front of us. No. Naw. Different chick. But definitely tied to Alvarez's crew."

They'd followed her to the cantina, just a recon mission at first. But when she'd come out, Luther had decided to approach her, try and confirm their suspicions that the Mayans were using hookers as mules.

The girl was only sixteen, maybe seventeen, jacked up on six inch heels and sporting enough fake gold to get Mr. T hard. She'd started convulsing, spitting blood. And there was nothing any of them could do. She'd ingested something and the churning stomach acid had eaten through the balloons in her stomach. She was dead within moments.

They knew that the Mayans would come to collect, not caring that she was dead. And to piss on the Mexican's territory, and to throw a wrench in the trade, Hap had unsheathed his knife and taken the drug pellets out of the girl. Now she stared up at him, a puddle of crimson around her on the pavement, her eyes accusing. As he looked at her hard-used body and her eviscerated belly, he was struck with the thought that she wasn't much younger than his girl.

He brought that bright, shining memory of Ava to the forefront of his mind; her fingers curled through the chain link, water dripping to the concrete, that purple bikini.

Her birthday was in two days. She'd be eighteen. And looking down at the dead hooker he'd just cut open, he decided that a vacation was in order.

"That Quinn?" he asked Mayday. He turned around and kept wiping his hands.

The other Nomad nodded.

"Tell him I want a few days off. There's somewhere I need to go."

Mayday frowned. "Where?"

"Sacramento."

**TBC**

**AN: So not much Happy here, but there will be mucho Hap next chapter. Also, Stone Court apartments is completely fictional on my part. As are the names of any extra bikers I throw in. I don't know any bikers named Mayday or Wizard...horses, mabye, but not bikers:)**


	25. Chapter 25

**September 18, 2013**

Ava felt like she should put a big sticker on her calendar. For one year and one year only, she would be eighteen on the eighteenth. It had been an okay day so far; one of her classes had been cancelled and she'd taken advantage of the free period to write a piece for her Comp class. She'd called in "sick" to work. Now she would have no homework and no uptight customers and would be free to spend the evening with Caroline and her boyfriend Adam. Because of course Caroline hadn't been able to resist the skater poet in her Calculus class.

"Where do you wanna go?" Caroline asked as they walked across campus.

The trees overhead threw lacey shadows down on the sidewalk and the first tingle of autumn brushed up her arms. The breeze was starting to be cool. "I'm thinking pancakes," she said, stepping neatly over a crack. "Yeah. With chocolate chips."

"Ihop?" Caroline asked with a laugh. "What a splurge."

"We can't drink," she shrugged. "Legally anyway. And I haven't eaten all day and my sugar's crashing. I want pancakes."

"Pancakes it is. Whatever the birthday girl wants, so shall she get."

They passed group of frat boy types who were chuckling like Beevis and Butthead on a bench. It jogged her memory. "Oh, did I show you the card Carter sent me?"

Caroline smiled as if to a child. "Oh, he's so cute. He said he'd come visit us, you know. He's totally gonna show up at our door one day like a lost goddamn puppy."

Ava grinned. "Our little outcast jock. So sad."

Her phone rang and it was, big surprise, Maggie. "Hey, Mom."

"Happy Birthday, babe! How's it feel to be eighteen."

"Like I can buy cigarettes."

"Smartass," Maggie chuckled. "You with Caroline?"

"Who else?"

"Lemme talk to her a sec."

Ava frowned. "Why?"

"Just for a second."

She passed the phone to her friend with a shrug. "Mom wants to talk to you."

"Okay…s'up, Mrs. Telford? _Really? _Oh, that's not right. I know! Yeah. Sure thing." She sighed and Ava started to worry. "No problem. Bye." She snapped the phone closed and passed it back.

"What the hell was that?"

A strange expression flitted over Caroline's face; part _I have a secret _and part disgusted. "Well," she said with a deep breath. "I think it's safe to say Ihop is off the menu."

Ava frowned, not liking the tone of her voice. "What's going on, Caro?"

"I'm not gonna tell you," she shook her head and stared at the ground as they walked. "But you should go back to the apartment. Adam and I'll go out. Call if you need to…but I'll let you decide what you want to do about it."

"Do about what?"

Caroline didn't say.

**-O-**

She saw his bike before she had her truck parked. It was hard to miss among the mid-size, mid-range sedans on the Stone Court lot. Ava's body reacted instantly; her pulse picking up, goose bumps breaking out across her skin. And though that old ache of longing flared up in her belly, she sat for a moment behind the wheel, just staring at his bike.

A year ago, she would have already been racing up the steps to her apartment, two at a time, anxious and thrilled to get to him.

But now she wasn't just excited, but hurt too. She hadn't seen him since his drunken phone call. Time and coldness on his part hadn't changed the fact that she loved him – he was too much a part of her childhood, her whole life to just _not _love. But she resented him now. She wouldn't venture to say that she was perfectly happy here, but she was settling into a routine. And just as she was finding her footing, he was here.

**-O-**

Happy had the definite advantage up on the landing in front of her door. He got to watch her climb out of her truck, saw the unshielded emotions on her face before she put the walls up in front of him. She was sad. A little pissed maybe. And she looked great.

She was wearing dark wash jeans and low heels, a pale green shirt that hugged tits he could swear were bigger than they used to be. She kept her head up and one hand in her purse as she crossed the lot to the staircase, her fingers no doubt curled around the hilt of a knife. She scanned the area and moved quickly, long legs eating up the distance. _Good girl _he thought. Safety first.

He had wondered if he was making the right decision; coming to Sacramento. But as he heard her shoes click up the stairs, he knew he had. It was soothing just knowing she was that close. However this turned out, it had been for the best.

Ava halted at the top of the landing and pushed her shades up into her hair. Her eyes were a deep brown in the shadows. Hap had thought, for some reason, that seeing her as a legal adult would somehow change her in his eyes. But she was the same girl, still had the same pull on him. Her age was irrelevant.

"Happy Birthday."

She tilted her head, chewed at her bottom lip. Fidgeted with the neckline of her top. "Thank you."

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He knew that this was the reaction he'd worked so hard to get out of her – the wariness, the distrust – he'd effectively turned her from the girl who loved him without question to the one giving him the curious eye now. But it didn't mean it was what he wanted. Not really. Not after gutting dead, teenage hookers. He wanted his girl back.

She pulled in a deep breath. "Hap -,"

"I'm not playing games with you," he cut her off. "I came 'cause I wanted to see you. Tell me to go if you want, but I ain't gonna stand here and talk bullshit with you."

For a tense moment, he thought she'd refuse him. But Ava nodded and pulled her keys out of her purse. "Come on," she said, unlocking the door. "You can see my place."

**-O-**

She didn't even get to begin the tour before he was on her. His hands clamped down on her hips and he pushed her hair aside, nipped at her neck as she dropped her purse inside the door. She was wet just at the first touch, her head tipping back on her spine. "Happy…"

He spun her around pushed her back against the door, looming over her. It felt like catching him off guard. His dark eyes looked black and intense, boring into her with something she didn't know how to describe. When he dipped down and kissed her, she could feel it; the energy surging through him. The hunger. And it didn't just feel like a kiss, but like he was trying to swallow her whole.

He wrenched her shirt up over her head and she heard the seams pop, loud as the wet sound of their lips coming apart. His mouth landed on hers again, hard enough to bruise her lips, as he chucked the shirt aside. His hands were on her tits, squeezing and kneading, thumbs finding the hard peaks of her nipples through her bra.

Everything with him was hard; hard, hot and impassioned. There were no delicate kisses, no gentle caresses. Ava was drunk on the coiled power in his arms, the hard length of his body pressed to hers. She thought her neck would snap at the angle of their kiss, but didn't dare break the contact. Her skin felt on fire, her chest pumping.

And then just as suddenly as it had started, Hap stopped. He pulled back and she heard him breathing in ragged gasps. She found his eyes and was startled by the look in them. Slowly, like he didn't know he was doing it, he circled his arms behind her shoulders and pulled her flush against his chest. She felt his chin on top of her head. The thump of his heart through his shirt. His breath ruffled her hair and his hands traced aimless patterns down her bare back, skimmed over the clasp of her bra without offering to unhook it.

Ava realized, with a shock, that he was _hugging _her. And never, in all their interactions, had he done that.

She pulled in a shaky breath. "Let's go to my room," she prodded. "Come on."

He let her go and her legs trembled as she led him just past the kitchenette to her bedroom. She heard the door shut – no doubt he'd kicked it to – and waited for his hands to settle on her again. But they didn't. She turned around.

Hap was leaned back against the door, hands in his baggy pockets. "Get naked," he told her, a request instead of an order, something soft tingeing the edges of his voice. She hesitated and he cocked his head. "I said I wanted to _see _you. Go on."

She felt a stab of trepidation as she toed off her boots. She hated herself just a little for doing as told, but was captivated by the appraisal in his eyes. Like she was livestock on the auction block. Ava unbuttoned her jeans and stepped neatly out of them, hesitating with her thumbs hooked into the string hips of her panties. He nodded, and she slipped them off. Bra too. And then she was in front of him, naked, ashamed that she couldn't refuse him, anxious about what he intended.

"Why are you nervous?" he almost sounded hurt.

She glanced down and saw that her hands were balled into fists, her toes squirming on the carpet. God, when had she become _nervous _around him?

"Did you miss me?" he asked.

Ava actually staggered a step back, arms folding over her breasts. It was that same shit as Christmas – that miss him shit. Like he had to ask. How dare he come in and rattle her cage like that, after he'd said he wasn't going to play games. Liar. Lying fucking asshole!

"Did you?" he repeated. She was pissed, but not so far gone that she didn't recognize the plea to his voice. It was quiet, just a subtle difference to his usual tone.

_Did you miss me?_

He'd asked her that and he'd kissed her. Even when she'd asked him to fuck her, when she'd turned away, he'd wanted that contact. He'd wanted her to look at him, wanted her to…

She gasped. "Hap -,"

"Did you miss me?" his voice became icy. Hard. He took a step forward. "I told you I didn't want to play games…"

"Yes," she said quickly. "I missed you. I always miss you."

He nodded and some of the anger left his face.

_Oh, Christ _she thought. He, shit, he _needed _this. Needed to feel like he was coming back to someone who wanted him and was glad to see him. She pulled in a deep breath and felt the tension go out of her body. "I love you. You know that." He didn't move and she took a tentative step forward. This was worse than it had been before – there was a darkness in him, that seemed, this time, to be directed _at _her, rather than at whoever was _after _her. "I didn't want you to leave, Hap," she was careful to keep her voice soft, taking another step. "You don't have to get upset about it because you _know _that this wasn't my choice -,"

He moved fast, his arm shooting out like a striking snake, and caught her wrist, pushed her until the backs of her knees collided with her bed and she fell backwards onto the mattress.

Everything about the exchange felt wrong. Her body wanted him; her nipples standing erect, the wetness building between her thighs. But he wasn't himself. He straddled her and ditched his cut and t-shirt, fell on her with his mouth; her lips, her neck, her breasts. Happy was acting as if in accordance with a script. The deliberate questions, the hard looks, the fevered stroke of his tongue…all of it felt ritualistic and detached. And she couldn't reconcile it with the way he hugged her.

"Hap," she pushed lightly at his bare shoulders. "Happy, stop." And when that didn't work ", Stop! I mean it, stop!"

**-O-**

She'd told him to stop. Told _him _to fucking _stop_. Had he been at the clubhouse with a passaround, he would have thrown her out and found another bitch. He wasn't Tig; he didn't get off on the whole unwilling victim thing. He slammed his palms down onto the comforter, jacking himself up on his arms over her. Anyone, any other bitch…but Ava's eyes were wide and her cheeks were pale and she looked frightened.

This wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to close her eyes and tilt her neck back and murmur his name over and over while he was inside her. She shouldn't have been petrified, trembling like that hooker before she'd keeled over. Before he'd cut her open.

Hap rolled away from her and sat up, elbows braced on his knees. He couldn't get it back. He should have held onto it while he had the chance, but he'd shot everything to hell and now he couldn't get it back. For seventeen years, she'd been the bright, shiny little spot of escapism in his life. And up until now, he'd taken it for granted. Hadn't that been his reason for coming this time? To use her? To let her undiluted, wondrous lust take all the bad shit away?

She was quiet, but he heard the bed springs shift, the comforter rustle. The mattress dipped at his thigh and her hand landed on his shoulder. He hadn't expected her to come to him so fast – she had always been smarter than he gave her credit – and he stayed still, the predator letting the fawn get closer. Letting her think it was safe so she'd willingly come to slaughter.

She kissed his temple and lingered, the back of her finger running down his cheek. He felt the soft pressure of her tits against his arm, the hard buds of her nipples. He ground his jaw, frustrated at the gentleness of her, but not really wanting her to stop either. Women were a lot of things with him, but gentle wasn't one of them. Maybe he could make that allowance for her. But just her.

"Things are bad with the Mayans," he heard himself tell her. Her fingers skimmed down the side of his neck and she kissed him again, on the cheek this time. "Irish are bein' shitheads."

"How's Jax holding up with all that?" she asked, her breath on his skin.

It was the most perfect thing she could have said. The chain caught in his head, pulling him out of whatever shit he was spiraling towards. "Not too bad," he said. "He's tired. Don't get much sleep I guess. Prez is a hard gig."

"MmmHmm. Maybe even harder for him. He worries too much."

"Your Old Man helps him. He's a good VP."

She was quiet a moment and he felt the smooth skin of her forehead on his jaw. "I can't do this," she whispered. "You just…blast in here out of nowhere…and I can't pretend it's okay. If you knew how bad it hurt…you wouldn't do this."

"Tell me to go," he challenged. "Tell me you don't want me here."

Her little chuckle was hollow and sad. "Yeah? How am I supposed to do that?" She sighed. "You're already here…just…it can't get any harder. Stay."

Hap couldn't fool himself and pretend that the one little word didn't mean anything. Stay. One night wasn't really enough, but it would do.

He sat up when he felt her hand on his chest. She moved into his lap, lithe and graceful, so she was straddling his legs, and her arms circled around his neck. He'd almost forgotten that she was naked. His hands went to her hips, down around to her ass, loving the young, smooth softness of her skin, back up again.

She looked determined, he thought, like she was struggling to push her emotions into check. But he could hear the catch in her breath when he kissed her, feel the goose bumps that ran up her sides. She was hurting and couldn't hide it, even as she opened her mouth for his tongue. She moved, ever so slowly, hips rolling, grinding over his jeans. She was sweet and eager to please…he was glad he'd come.

**-O-**

Ava had lived this moment out in fantasy at least once a night for the past month. When she lay awake, staring at this strange ceiling and listening to the heavy footfalls of their upstairs neighbor, she would envision Happy at her front door. But, stupidly, in her dreams, he always told her what a huge mistake he'd made, how sorry he was. And when she pulled him into her bedroom, it wasn't confusing and hurtful like this was.

But life was not a fantasy. He wouldn't apologize, wouldn't make any promises. As he pulled her to him and rolled them over, she wanted to believe her theory that he needed this. If he did, then he was using her. But he kissed her until she couldn't breathe and didn't care.

She reached for his belt and felt the damp spot she'd left on the front of his jeans, the hard bulge of his cock beneath, and her pulse accelerated. He stopped her efforts, pulling her wrists together in one hand and putting them over her head. He was gentle though, and she didn't fight him, instead lifting her hips off the bed as he trailed his free hand down her belly.

His eyes were on her rising and falling breasts as his thumb stroked across the neat strip of dark curls between her legs. He pinched her clit, teased her, had her spine rolling like a whip crack, and slid one, then another finger inside her.

"Jesus." She wanted to touch him, have her hands on him. But he held her fast. His rhythm was slow, his fingers stroking deep inside her; but not deep enough. Not as deep as his cock would.

"Hap," she heard the unmasked plea in her voice and didn't care. She caught the flash in his eyes as he leaned down. He pulled her nipples into his mouth and sucked hard, the left, and then the right, his teeth grazing them, the buds so tight and stimulated it was painful. "Please…Jesus Christ…I want you _inside _me."

He withdrew his fingers and rolled them again, sat up. Ava straddled his lap once more, her freed hands on his shoulders. He kissed her and when he pulled back, he was actually smiling. She felt something unlock in her chest, like his smile had eliminated that last little doubt.

"You remember what I taught you?" he asked. Hap put his hand over one of hers and pulled it down to his belt buckle.

She grinned as realization dawned. "Yeah."

**-O-**

He had learned back in the motel room in Charming that she couldn't take him all the way down her throat on the first try. She'd gagged then, just once, but gamely kept trying.

Now, on her knees, she had her lips tightly pursed around his cock, looking up at him from under her lashes, seeking approval. She had one hand around the base of his cock, the other massaged his balls. Her touch was unsure at moments, but she wanted this, was desperate to get it right; her cheeks flushed with the arousal she stirred in herself as she flicked away his pre-cum with her tongue.

Hap tightened his grip in her hair, holding her head to him with both hands. He wanted to pull out of her mouth and blow his load all over her face. See his cum sliding down her porcelain cheek.

But instead he recognized that look of anxiety in her eyes, that fast, darting glance that told him she knew he was close, and was afraid she wouldn't be able to swallow it all. So he pushed her back gently, let her get to her feet. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth. Her lips were bright pink, her eyes wide.

"C'mere, sweetheart."

Ava was compliant now – all flushed cheeks and bright, shining trust and longing. He laid her back on the bed, pushed her knees up and settled between them. She was drenched and ready for him, and he held still a moment after he entered her, struggling not to come so soon. She was tighter than her fist had been around his cock, her walls squeezing, her thighs clamped on his waist. And when he started to move, that pressure was amazing.

She rode out his thrusts, even when they became hard and frantic, driving her down into the mattress. She scored his back with her short nails, cursed against his neck. And when she came, when she tightened and spasmed around him, it was the most beautiful feeling in the world.

She cried out. And then murmured "God, Happy," as she eased back down.

In the aftermath, nothing existed except her body under his, her skin slick with sweat. Her fluttering eyelashes.

"Shower?" he asked her.

She smiled.

**-O-**

Caroline didn't know any of them well enough to recognize anything specific, but the stripped down Dyna in the parking lot could only belong to a Son. Her lip curled. She and Adam had been out until ten in the hopes that Ava's biker jerk-off would be gone…but he was still here.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, pulling her keys out of her purse.

"What?" Adam slid an arm around her waist as they entered the shadows at the base of the stairwell.

She paused, fiddled with her keys, and met his eyes, only able to see the glowing whites in the dark. "Ava has this guy," she told him. "This biker who rides with her dad's club. He's a helluva lot older than her and he won't commit, keeps hurting her…asshole showed up on her _birthday_. Guess now that she's legal, he can have a taste without answering to Daddy." She shook her head. "He's no good for her."

"So," she heard the shrug in his voice. "Throw him out. Tell him he's not welcome."

Caroline started up the stairs with a groan. "You do not just _throw _a Son out. This dude's scary, baby."

"But Ava's your best friend, shouldn't you -,"

"Pick up the pieces when he breaks her heart. Again. But the rest of it isn't my business."

She was disturbed to find the door unlocked. The lights were off, just the fluorescent tube above the cook top flickering. Caroline flipped on the lights and saw Ava's purse dumped inside the door, its contents spilled. There was a towel hanging off the arm of the sofa.

"Whoa," Adam muttered.

She knelt, scooped up and re-stuffed her friend's bag, and tip-toed down to Ava's bedroom door. It was shut, thankfully, but she could hear what was _still _going on through the thin wood. She left the purse and went back to the living room.

**-O-**

The sun woke Ava, stabbing through the blinds she'd forgotten to close the night before, highlighting the digits on the clock that told her it was 10:32 and she'd missed her first class.

But she didn't care. She could smell him; the dark scent of his skin, cologne and sweat mixing with the aroma of all their sex dove down her nostrils with each breath. She blinked against the light and stretched a hand through the sheets. They were cool on her skin, and Happy was gone.

Ava struggled upright. The sheet fell away and goose flesh erupted across her bare chest and arms. Her body was sore, her muscles protesting the move. He was gone. Why was he gone? She was eighteen, goddamnit, it was okay. He could stay with her.

But she pulled in a shaky breath and reminded herself that she'd known. The night before, when he'd looked at her that way, she'd known that he was using her to wipe away something awful. He'd given her more than one chance to throw him out and she hadn't taken them. Now, she was sore and the sheets smelled like him and she was alone again.

She turned her head to look at the stretch of empty bed beside her. Something shiny caught the sun rays and glittered on the neighboring pillow. She leaned forward. Nestled in the hollow his head had left, was a heavy man's ring, the gold one he always wore on his left hand.

Ava picked it up, disbelieving. It was cool in her palm, weighty. She'd been looking at this ring her whole life, she'd never seen him without it, wore the damn thing in the shower, had seen it covered in blood.

And he'd left it on her pillow.

It could have meant anything, could have been goodbye. A parting gift. But it felt a little like a promise. _I'll be back._

She smiled.

**TBC**


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: I'm going nuts with the updates because 27 is going to be a doozy. It might even be a two-parter. And I want to spend plenty of time on it, and I'm working on a magazine article, and the update will be slow, I'm afraid. So…happy Friday!**

**This picks up right where the previous chapter left off.**

**Oh, and disclaimer: the Boot Shack is based on an actual store, but it's fictional.**

**September 19, 2013**

Ava rooted around in the bottom of her little wooden jewelry box. Finally, she found the silver chain she was after and slid it through the ring, fastening it around her neck. It was a big ring, flashy and ornate and very biker-like, and the chain landed it just above the neckline of the tank top she'd slipped on. She glanced in the mirror of her dresser and smiled. It looked good there.

Caroline was on the sofa as she headed for the bathroom, dressed and holding her school bag in her lap. Ava idly wondered when her friend had become such a damn stick in the mud because Caroline was giving her a very motherly look of disapproval.

She paused, wondering if she should ignore the concerned stare and hit the shower, or open the door on a verbal reprimand. Maybe…shit, Caroline had always been supportive of the Hap issue. Maybe she was upset about something else. She was wearing those damn skinny jeans she always bitched about cutting off her circulation.

"Something wrong?" Ava asked, settling a hand on the back of the sofa.

Caroline opened her mouth, shook her head, and closed it again. "No."

Ava sighed. "That bullshit doesn't work on me. What's the matter?"

Her friend stared fixedly at a big chip in the coffee table, leaning forward to run a finger over it even. "When Adam and I got home last night…the door was unlocked."

She recalled Hap pouncing on her the moment she'd gotten the thing closed. "Oh. Sorry. I guess I got distracted."

"No kidding. I had to pick your _ruined _shirt up off the floor."

Ava shrugged. "You could have left it."

"That's not the point," Caroline flashed her eyes upward, aggravation plain in her voice.

Ava tensed out of instinct. "Really? Then what is the point?"

"We could hear you guys last night, Ava. I mean…he doesn't talk to you for months, leaves town…and then just comes riding in here so he can fuck you silly? He was here _one night_. And I heard him leave at five this morning."

"What happened to you being the fun one?" Ava bristled. She walked into the kitchen – all five steps it took – and slammed the cabinet doors as she searched for a mug. "What, you get a steady boyfriend and you're Miss Love Coach all of a sudden?"

Caroline sighed and came to stand in the doorway. She had pink streaks in her black hair and purple acrylics, but she suddenly didn't look fun and flirty at all. "You and that…assface…that's not about _fun_ and you know it."

"_Don't -_ ," Ava stopped when she realized she was about to yell. She pulled in a deep breath and fired a hard look at her friend. "Don't call him that."

"Sweetie -,"

Ava felt her fingers twitch as she pulled the instant coffee out of the pantry.

" – You're my friend and I care about you. You don't deserve this. You should have a guy who's good to you, who -,"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," she interrupted. She spilled coffee powder everywhere. Pinched the skin of her thumb as she slammed the microwave shut, punched the buttons nearly hard enough to break them.

"Ava," Caroline tried again. "I'm just -,"

"Making assumptions. Again." Ava was pissed. She glared at her friend, wishing the water would hurry the fuck up and get hot. "Stop doing this. You don't know _anything _about growing up with the club. Hap _needs _me."

"He's using you."

"And that's none of your business. I've known him my _whole life_, Caroline. I'm not throwing that away because he makes you uncomfortable."

"I -,"

"Shut up!" Ava yelled, startling the other girl.

The microwave finished with a series of beeps that were loud in the silence. Ava wordlessly pulled the measuring cup out and poured the hot water into her mug, stirred the powder into coffee. When she turned back, Caroline was leaning against the wall, stunned. She didn't care. It was bad enough she argued with herself about Hap, she wasn't going to have a non-club outsider tell her what to do.

She went back to her room, brushing quickly passed her friend, snatched her phone and went to the front door.

"You have class," Caroline reminded icily.

"Fuck class."

**-O-**

Maggie was elbow deep in paperwork and had two customers seated across from her, waiting on cars she'd assured were ready, but on which Tux and Opie were scrambling to finish the repairs. She was busy and preoccupied with plans for Ava's visit that weekend, but she still managed to dwell on the Hap issue. Whatever else was going on in her head, he was like a burning little coal right smack in the middle of it.

She had defended that asshole to Chibs and Jax and everyone else, been a shitty-ass mother and snuck Ava over to see him, all so he could throw that back in her face. He'd used her daughter, moved on, and then went to her for a _booty call. _On her birthday no less.

Maggie had wanted badly to think that Happy wasn't like Tig – that what he felt for Ava was real and not so twisted and confusing as what she'd been exposed to as a teenager. But he was using Ava. Just like Tig had used her.

"_You can't tell me no and you know it. Shut up."_

She'd been twenty and hadn't been on friendly terms with Tig for over a year. But she'd stayed late to file paperwork and the boys had come back from a run. There had been blood on his clothes, on his hands; blood he'd smeared down the front of her white shirt, streaked on her thighs when he'd pulled her panties down. She'd wanted to turn him away, really she had, but his eyes had been wild and she'd been half afraid he'd hurt her if she protested too strongly. That and she was sex starved.

He'd pushed her face first into the file cabinet and taken her from behind. Once, twice…maybe three times. She hadn't been able to stand when he finally pulled out. Naked from the waist down, she slumped to her knees on the linoleum, ashamed and spent. He'd raked his bloody hands through her hair, tilted her head back so she stared up at him. He had been a beaten up, disheveled, terrifying mess looming above her.

"_You can't get away from this," _he'd said. _"Don't pretend you don't want this, Mags."_

But then Chibs had come into her life and she'd left that blood-smeared, embarrassment of a girl back on the floor and hadn't looked back. Well…mostly. Bottom line, Chibs was good for her. Ava needed that; a white knight of her own. Happy may have started out that way, but now he was a user.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" one of the women across from her spoke up.

She jerked out of her reveries with a start. "What? Oh…you're the Saturn, right?"

She nodded.

Maggie craned her neck to peek through the blinds. Tux was still under the hood of the blue sedan, elbows flying around as he worked at a gallop. She winced as she faced the woman. "Just one more sec. Okay?"

"But I -,"

Maggie's cell rang and she jumped for it. She'd been expecting this call all morning. She nodded to herself when she read Ava's name on the screen of her Blackberry and stood up. "I'll be right back," she told the ladies.

"Miss, I -,"

"I really gotta take this." She slipped out into the garage and closed the door behind her. Lowell was working on a bike inside the first bay, but she didn't see any Sons. And Lowell wouldn't tattle. "Hey, babe."

**-O-**

"Hi," Ava said darkly into the phone. She swirled her tepid coffee with a hard movement, slopping it over the edge of the mug and onto her hand.

"You okay?" Maggie asked.

"Peachy."

It was quiet a beat. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," Ava sighed. She set the mug down on the curb beside her. It was chilly out here in her pajamas and she wrapped the arm around her middle. "Well…not _nothing_. But he's not the problem."

"Really?" Maggie sounded disbelieving. "Is he still there?"

"No."

"Ava -,"

"It's Caroline. She just jumped me this morning, first thing, all holier than thou 'he's no good for me' and shit."

Ava heard the familiar clangs and bangs of garage noise. An engine fired up. "Well," Maggie finally said. "Do you think, maybe, she's just trying to look out for you?"

She rolled her eyes, but had a feeling her mother, and her friend, were right. She was too proud to admit that, but even with his ring a thousand pounds around her neck, she still had questions. Her blind faith in his intentions was dimming. It was still there – but it didn't last her after he left like it used to. "I dunno," she nearly whispered.

"Look," Maggie said. "What if you come home early, huh? You were gonna leave tomorrow night, leave tonight instead."

She had school and work, but the offer was tempting. "Okay," she said, relieved to say it. "I work till six tonight, then I'll get on the road."

"I don't like you traveling that late."

"It'll be fine."

**-O-**

Ava worked four days a week at the Boot Shack; a western wear retailer that specialized in, obviously, boots. She packed a duffel before she left the apartment, didn't leave Caroline a note, and headed for Charming after she clocked out. She didn't even bother to change out of her skin-tight, black Wranglers and button-up that she was required to wear for employee 'authenticity'.

By the time she pulled into the drive of her parent's house, the damn high waist jeans had cut off her circulation; she was starving, had a pounding headache, and was very glad to get pulled into her mother's hug.

Maggie was waiting on the doorstep and embraced her hard. "God, you look older. Do you feel older?"

"No," Ava managed a smile as she pulled back. Her mother was arranging her hair on her shoulder, picking at lint on her shirt.

"Well, the chuck wagon's still serving if you're hungry."

"Ha," Ava muttered. She hiked her duffel up higher on her shoulder. "First I'm changing out of this shit."

Chibs was in the foyer and took her bag, hugging her with his free arm. She didn't miss how wide his smile was, or the tone of his laugh. Sometimes she couldn't stand him, but he _did_ love them. No one could accuse him of anything less. "Hey, sweetheart! Happy birthday."

'Thanks, Dad." This tired, fake smile thing was getting harder by the second. She pulled at the front of her shirt. "Lemme have my bag back and I'll go put on some real clothes. I'm tired of looking like a buckaroo."

He ignored her, and instead reached forward and pulled the ring around her neck into his palm. In the light, it was painfully obvious what kind of ring it was. His smile slipped. "What's this?"

Ava didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. Chibs gave her a searching look, but finally let go. The ring fell back against her chest. "Go clean up," he said, voice rough. "Your mum held dinner till ya got here."

**-O-**

It was nice to come home; sleep in her old bed for a few nights, drown herself in everything SOA and not deal with crowded hallways and snide professors. But as the weekend edged towards a close, as Gemma's Sunday dinner that was being held in honor of her birthday drew nearer, Ava began to question things. Maybe she'd been too harsh with Caroline. Okay, not maybe, _definitely_. And maybe the ring around his neck was a memento; something to remember him by and not a promise at all. As the novelty of her night with him began to fade, the old wounds that had been reopened began to fester and ooze, doubt and heartache flowing out like pus.

At Sunday's dinner she sat between her mother and Bobby and kept having to shake herself out of intense staring contests with her plate. "What's up, darlin'?" Bobby nudged her lightly with his elbow.

She realized she was scooting her peas around her plate with her fork, watching them roll around like it was some kind of sporting event. "Just tired," she was careful to meet his eyes when she spoke, smiled in what she hoped was a genuine manner. "I had a tough week at school."

"What are you taking this semester?" Juice asked from across the table and she quickly got caught up in a nice, distracting discussion with the two of them. She'd always thought Bobby was smart in a very practical sense, and Juice was downright genius, in his own way. He was most interested in the freshman math classes she was required to take, was curious about some of the technology courses Sac State had. In a different life, she could easily see him working IT for some hot shot corporation. His hacking skills were damn near untouchable. But as it was, he was breaking into crime databases for an outlaw MC. Go figure.

The rest of the meal passed quickly. Ava stood with her mother, Gemma, Tara and Lyla to clear the plates while the guys stayed seated and started in with the shop talk. She was balancing a stack of dirty dishes and half listening to Jax give Clay a recap of the Mayan situation, and didn't expect Tig's question. As she reached over his shoulder for his plate, he shot her a fast, mischievous look. "How's Hap?"

She took his dish without flinching. "Bite me," she said sweetly and headed for the kitchen. He chuckled behind her.

But as she walked toward the sink, her arms started to tremble and the plates to rattle. She set them down before she dropped them and braced her hands on the counter. Happy's ring swung forward on its chain, dangling under her nose, drawing the light and glittering as it swung in little circles.

"What's wrong?" Gemma asked beside her at the sink. Ava glanced over and saw the Queen holding a dish under the tap, staring at her.

"Fine," Ava shoved off the counter and offered a smile. "Just…fine."

"Uh-uh," Gemma halted her with a look as she started to walk off. She reached forward and took the ring between manicured fingers, tapping at it with her nails. "Where'd you get this?" Gemma tilted her head down, glancing up with that pin-you-to-the-wall look of hers.

Ava winced. "Happy."

"That's what I figured." Gemma dropped the ring and put her hand on her hip. "When's he coming to see you next?"

"I don't know."

Gemma blew out a loud breath and shook her head. "Alright." She shut the tap off and set the plate she'd been holding in the sink. "It's time you had the talk."

"Gem…no offense…but I already know how all the birds and bees stuff works. I kinda got that part covered."

"Not _that talk,_" Gemma made a disgusted face. "Girls," she glanced to the other Old Ladies in turn. "Let's take a break."

**-O-**

Ava felt like they were having some sort of Ya-Ya Sisterhood meeting out on the patio. Tara – though she technically should have been the Queen these days – sat to Gemma's right, Maggie on her left. Lyla had her long legs pulled beneath her on a wrought iron chair and Ava sat sideways on the chaise lounge, a stemmed wineglass in her hand. The wall sconces cast warm, golden light over their circle, moths darting around the beams and causing the shadows to flicker.

No one had said anything yet; there'd been much wine topping-off and settling in chairs. Ava traced a fast, nervous circle over her glass with her thumb. The air felt rife with positive tension, like the women were waiting, letting her curiosity peak before they welcomed her into their fold.

"Let me tell you something about men, sweetheart," Gemma finally said, her voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. "Men will do whatever they think they can get away with. They will run around on you, fuck other women, use you, stomp all the fuck over your heart if you don't put a stop to it."

Ava glanced over and caught her mother's nod. She frowned.

"That's all men, not just our boys," Gemma went on. "They're all dogs, Sons or not."

"What happens on a run, stays on a run," Ava chanted, rolling her eyes.

"But we don't have to like it," Tara spoke up. "I mean, we can't control them, but we don't have to be _okay _with some of it."

"That's right," Gemma said. "We aren't horses they can trade. We're their Old Ladies. To the outside world, we're property. And yeah, let 'em be bullheaded boys and say they own us. But in this club, they have to _earn _our love. We aren't some sweetbutt whores, we don't have to compete for them."

"Opie never makes me worry about my place with him," Lyla said, her words not so forceful as the Queen's. "It shouldn't feel like you don't have a choice or that you're stuck. When it's real, they don't want you to feel like that."

"Absolutely," Maggie nodded emphatically. "Filip Telford knows what I will and won't tolerate."

"And you don't just _become _an Old Lady," Gemma went on. She took a swallow of wine. "We earned that. These boys don't just grab some random bitch off the street. You have to prove yourself to this club, to your man. It doesn't happen fast or easy, but when it does, when they _love _you, they'd die for you."

"You're not some outsider, baby," Maggie said. "You didn't just stumble into the garage one day. You're SAMCRO blood, both sides, through and through. That means something. You deserve all kinds of respect for that."

Ava was overwhelmed, all of them talking in such fast, succinct tones. But their point was starting to make itself clear. She didn't know if she was tough enough yet to do what they wanted, but she understood. There were layers to the club. To an outsider, it was all just one great big illegal operation. But inside, there was a hierarchy. There were hangarounds who helped out and attended parties, longed one day to Prospect the club. Some of them had been around for years and might never breach the wall. Crow Eaters and sweetbutts were whatever they needed to be; hookers, strippers, short order cooks, nurse maids, informants. They were loyal to the club, but the club had no allegiances to them.

The inner circle was comprised of the members and their families. You didn't break that seal in flash and a bang and come crashing through the most fortified of MC barriers. You were blood related, or you were a woman who had proved herself time and time and again to become someone's unaffiliated Old Lady. Even the women had a ranking system. Gemma reigned supreme, then Tara, then Maggie…and on down the line. If Tux ever had a steady girlfriend, she'd have to answer to the other women as well as her husband.

Ava, however, had an instant _in_. Like Abel or Ellie or Kenny, she was blood related, to not one, but two members, and two Old Ladies. She had an automatic free pass. And considering her lineage, she was owed some goddamn respect – from everyone.

"What…" she took a swallow of wine for courage. "What are you telling me to do here?"

Gemma gave her a hard look. "You are the _VP's _daughter, and the _President's _cousin, and Happy isn't gonna use you like a fast fuck out behind a diner. If he wants you, then he has to make a commitment. Otherwise, you cut him off. You're Old Lady material, sweetheart, and you ain't anybody's fuck buddy. Give him an ultimatum."

The other women nodded. "She's right," Maggie prodded gently. "What he's doing is wrong. And you're the only one who can get things turned around."

Ava fiddled with his ring around her neck. "But what if…" she didn't have the courage to finish the sentence. Because what if she went all uber bitch on him and he walked away? For good? She didn't think she was ready for that yet.

"He won't tell you no, Ava," Gemma said. She twitched a smile. "If he isn't done with you yet, he won't ever be. Time to grow a set, girl."

"Yeah," Ava sighed. "A brass set apparently."

**-O-**

Maggie lingered when the others went back inside and joined Ava on the chaise. Ava didn't want to admit it, but she was thankful for a quiet moment with her mom. She felt Maggie's hand between her shoulders and sighed. "So that's it then? I tell him to commit or else?"

"Well," Maggie sounded thoughtful ", I agree with what Gemma said, all of it, but you do have a bit of a unique situation here."

Ava nodded.

"You're young, kiddo. And I know that if you made things official with Hap, you'd never back out, but I'd hate to think that you'd wake up and regret it one day."

"So, what? I keep doing this?" she waved her arms around. "I can't do _this _anymore."

"No, he can't keep stringing you along. If it feels too soon to be an Old Lady – and that's what I'm hoping you think – then you need to be dating. Spend time with some other guys. Have fun. See what else is out there."

Ava stared down at the toes of her sneakers and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. "But I don't want anyone else."

"Then…baby…" Maggie sighed and squeezed her shoulders. "I'm out of options."

The crickets were loud in the following silence. A light breeze rustled through Gemma's rose bushes and brushed Ava's hair across her eyes. She tucked it behind her ears. "How did you know," she asked quietly ", that Dad was the one? I mean, I don't have anyone but Hap…but you had…" she could hardly bring herself to say it. "How did you know it wasn't Tig?"

Maggie groaned. "Look at me." She did. "When I was with Tig, no matter how crazy I was about him, it was never healthy. He's not a sweet man and I couldn't change him. He didn't love me." Maggie smiled sadly. "Similarities aside, Happy _is not _Tig. And I can't make this decision for you."

Ava worried her lip with her teeth and stared hard into her mother's eyes, hoping to find some kind of clue there. She conjured up an image of Tig at dairy Queen, shaking his head. Whatever he'd felt for Maggie, it hadn't been love; obsession maybe, but not romantic love. Not what Chibs felt for her.

"Think about it," Maggie said. She gave her one last squeeze and stood. "But make sure, whatever you decide, you don't give yourself up along the way. I did that once…and it didn't end pretty."

**-O-**

It was close to midnight when Ava got back to Sacramento. She kept the lights off and tip toed through the quiet apartment. In her room, she dumped her overnight bag onto her closet floor, pawed out some pajamas, and headed for the bathroom.

There was a light on in Caroline's room, its dull glow a stripe beneath her closed door. Ava knocked once and then cracked it open. Her friend was lying on her bed, propped up on her elbows and staring at her laptop screen. She glanced up with a small frown.

"Hey," Ava offered. She braced a shoulder in the door jamb and held her pajamas loosely in both hands. "I wanted to apologize."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Babe, I know you're crazy when it comes to him. Don't sweat it."

Ava winced. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

**TBC**


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Okay, I have all my chapters outlined and laid out on notecards. I have added a few so that I can drag this out to September as long as is possible - which makes me feel guilty because this story is already too long and is going to get longer. I argued with myself for awhile about how to end things, came to a conclusion, and my while it disappoints me a little, I hope you guys will like.**

**As for this chap in particular, I guess I should warn that this gets a tad violent. Not bad, just, well…you'll see.**

**And I PROMISE that chapter 28 will come soon!**

…

**November 1, 2013**

"Hmmm."

Ava felt every muscle in her body tense. Flat on her back, staring at the pock-marked acoustic tiles of the ceiling, cold chills swept all the way down her spine, her toes curling inside the stirrups. She felt a little shove on her inner thigh and realized that Dr. Busby was pushing her legs apart; she'd clamped down on his shoulders again. But damn, it wasn't good when doctors said _Hmmm _like that.

The pressure in her pelvis lifted as he withdrew his instruments. The wheels of his stool whirred backward across the tile and Ava let her knees close with only a small amount of relief. She was glad the exam was over, but the continued silence had her feeling more frantic by the second.

"Okay, Ava," she heard his gloves snap off. "Why don't you sit up and we'll talk a minute."

She pushed herself up on her arms and scooted to the end of the exam table, letting her feet dangle off the edge between the stirrups. She'd thought it would be weird having a male OBGYN, but for the moment, she was worried about one thing and one thing only. And judging by that neutral, professional look of compassion on his face, she knew. She could just tell. Her heart made a leap for her throat. "Doctor…"

"Ava," he came to stand beside her and made several notes in her chart. When he finally met her eyes, it was with a sigh. "I hate to tell you this, but I'm afraid you've lost the fetus."

All the air went out of her in a rush. She'd known – when she'd climbed out of bed and felt the wetness between her legs, saw the blood on her sheets – she was miscarrying. But a small part of her had been clinging to hope. Maybe this was normal. Maybe this was okay. But it wasn't. The nurse's face, the blood test...she'd known it was very far from okay. And the baby was dead.

The ache started small, just a twinge, and flared, her lungs burning as if she were holding her breath. She leaned forward and put a palm over her sternum, feeling her erratic pulse through the thin film of the exam gown.

"There's nothing you could have done," Dr. Busby assured. He put a warm hand on her shoulder that made her claustrophobic. She wanted to claw it away. "Sometimes, even with a healthy young woman like you, miscarriages occur within the first few weeks. I'm very sorry."

Tears splashed down on her hands and arms but she wasn't making any noise, wasn't even aware of crying.

"Is there someone you want to notify?" he asked. "The father?"

_The father_. She shook her head violently, tears flying off the end of her nose. "No," she gasped. "No, I just…" she wrapped her arms around her middle. Her stomach cramped now, not because of involuntary muscle spasms, but because it just all hurt too badly to think about. Because though it had been horrible, something good had come of that Saturday night. And now that thing was gone; a stain in her underwear.

She could remember it vividly. And wished like hell she'd never opened her mouth in her American History class.

**Four Weeks Ago**

Derek sat in the very back of the room, in the seat behind Ava most days. She knew he was back there, knew what he looked like – that close-cropped dark hair and brown eyes, crooked nose – but just like every other male of the species, she didn't pay him any real attention. Back when class had first started in August, she'd shared a joke or two with him about their professor, but nothing serious.

But a week after her birthday, after Gemma's big speech and Maggie's advice, Derek had tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around, he had his head tilted, smiling at her. "Why on earth don't you ever turn around and talk to me?" he'd asked.

It had been a bold move on his part, and Ava had been so startled, that she _had _talked to him. Just vague, little stuff at first. But one day he followed her out of class and they ended up having coffee in the student center. The flirting became stronger on his part, and she had to admit that he was funny. Smart too. In a lot of ways, he reminded her of Juice; a little quirky but good looking and not a frat boy douche bag.

After a month without hearing from or seeing Hap, she decided to do something drastic – she accepted Derek's offer of a double date with Caroline and Adam. It had been odd; sitting and eating and talking with a boy in that setting. She kept telling herself that she wasn't obliged to do anything, but none of it felt natural. It wasn't until they were back at the apartment complex, she and Derek walking a few paces behind Caroline and Adam, when she realized that she'd never done this before. She'd done raunchy, unspeakable things with a forty-four-year-old man, but she'd never been on a date.

"Nice night," Derek commented as they headed up the sidewalk.

"Do you mean the weather?" she asked with a chuckle. "Or my awkward conversation skills at the restaurant?"

"Not awkward," he said, but there was a hint of laughter in his voice. "Just…careful."

Ava tilted her head in affirmation. They passed under a tree and he became a shadow. "Careful's my game plan," she admitted in the dark. "It's nothing personal against you or anything."

"Your last boyfriend was an asshole, huh?"

Everything about that sentence set her teeth on edge. Boyfriend. Asshole. The past tense in general. Happy _was _an asshole, _was not _her boyfriend…and she had no idea if she should start thinking about him in the past tense or not. And that dredged up older, sweeter, more intimate memories of her childhood. Back when he hadn't been afraid to hold her. When he'd smiled at her. She was seconds away from curling up into the fetal position on the sidewalk when she forcefully yanked herself out of Memory Land. That was then and this was now. And she had a very cute boy walking her to her door.

"Something to remember him by?"

Confused, Ava glanced over and, once more in the puddle of light from the street lamp, could see Derek staring at her chest. She realized she was rubbing Hap's ring and let go of it, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"It's okay," Derek assured with a soft smile. "Everybody has a past."

Again with the past stuff. But as she squashed her initial outrage at his implications – he didn't, after all, know what a touchy subject it was with her – she couldn't help but see the sweetness there. It was hard to wrap her head around the thought of a man who was capable of caring about a woman in an obvious and outspoken way. Clay and Jax and her dad were like that; the smiles and compliments and going out to dinner. But Happy was…nothing like that. She thought about what her mother had said, about dating a little and finding out what else was out there. And with a rally of emotional strength, she shoved Hap into a dark corner of her heart and locked him away from whatever was going to happen this evening.

"I don't want to talk about any of that," she told Derek and forced a smile. "It's not something I like to think about so…"

"'Nuff said," he held up a hand and shrugged. "I get it."

Man, he was just too sweet. "You want to come up with us?" she felt this sudden surge of boldness. "Adam buys our liquor…which probably means we've only got vodka, but it's better than nothing."

He chuckled. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Ava met his eyes for a moment. His smile was friendly, but there a tinge of lust there too, an intention in his eyes he didn't hide so well. Again he reminded her of Juice, and the red motorcycle jacket wasn't hurting the image either.

The four of them went up to the apartment and Caroline poured everybody a generous screwdriver; they didn't, in fact, have anything besides vodka. They watched TV for a bit and Ava realized that Derek was moving his arm slowly across the back of the sofa, inching towards a position draped around her shoulders. She spared him the trouble and leaned sideways into him. His hand settled along her arm and his fingers stroked her skin. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to tell herself that it was okay that he didn't have rough calluses on the pads of his fingers, or that his hand didn't dwarf hers.

It began to feel too careful and too much like an awkward little game, so Ava decided to settle things on her own terms. She stood and extended her hand to Derek. He gave her a surprised look, but quickly took her hand and let her lead him to her room. She didn't miss Caroline flash her a grin on their way.

"Are you sure this is what you wanna do?" Derek asked as he wandered over to her desk. He traced a finger across her closed laptop and shot her a curious look. His gentleman routine was harder to keep up here so close to the bed; his desire was plain on his face.

Ava nodded as she closed the door. She stared at him across her room and was hit with a little jolt of panic. He didn't belong here, he shouldn't be in her bedroom. His face, his clothes, his patient, hopeful smile…all of it was _wrong. _She didn't even know what to do. Hap always told her when to come and when to stay, turned her into a quivering mess of overly stimulated nerve endings. She almost told Derek no – that she wasn't okay and this wouldn't work. She felt the backs of her eyes start to burn and batted the tears away with her lashes.

"I'm fine," she said firmly.

He straightened and his smile became crooked and boyish. "Well," he said, slipping off his jacket and hanging it off the back of her desk chair. "Only if you're sure."

"I am." And then, on impulse ", c'mere."

It was what Hap always used on her, and it seemed to wipe away any of Derek's reservations. He walked, didn't _stalk _or _track _or _lunge_, but walked towards her. She brought her hands up as he reached her and settled them on his chest, but he wasn't as tall as Happy and the position didn't feel natural. His hands landed on her hips and she fought the urge to slap them away, instead tilted her head back and met his forward-leaning kiss.

Ava was still a moment, not moving as she let her brain digest the feel of his lips on her. It was a soft, tentative little butterfly kiss. No tongue. Close-mouthed. It was almost more of a peck really. But it reminded her that she was a red-blooded woman who may have been green broke, but really liked this sex stuff. She opened her mouth slightly in an effort to encourage him. Derek took the hint and kissed her a little harder, meeting her parted lips with more force. Then he put a little tongue into it.

Ava took a deep breath through her nose and kissed him back, equally as hard, if not more so. She closed her eyes and leaned in close, imagining Happy's face, his hard body under her hands. The next time Derek's tongue flicked out, she curled her own tongue around it and sucked, earning a little sound from him in return.

Without realizing it, she quickly took over and set the pace, and he was breathing hard, struggling to keep up and not reacting the way she wanted him to. Frustrated and in need of much more contact, she closed her hand over one of his and squeezed it around her hip, pushing his fingers into her jeans.

He broke the kiss a moment later. "Ava, what are you -,"

She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and silenced him. She was pressed flush to his chest now, but still not getting enough friction or enough touch. God, she wanted to be fucked good, not delicately brushed. Ava pulled his hand off her hip and felt him take a step back. Now even more frantic, she followed, and tried to urge his hand beneath her shirt. She loved it when Hap played with her tits, squeezed her nipples until it hurt. God, what the hell was wrong with this pussy?

"Ava," Derek finally shoved free of her. He staggered away, panting hard, chest pumping under his wannabe Affliction shirt. "Goddamn," he muttered, raking a hand through his short dark hair. "What the hell's this?"

She was pissed, horny, and now embarrassed. "What, too much for you to handle?" she snapped.

"Honestly…yeah." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just, damn, I didn't think you were that kinda girl."

She actually felt her lip curl as her hackles came up. "What _kind of girl_? You think I'm some kinda whore, that it? Nice girls don't like it rough?"

"Shit, no…Ava." He took a deep breath and seemed to calm down a bit. "Look, you've been so shy with me, I just didn't expect this, okay? But I can deal, if that's what you like…shit…can we try this again?"

The wound to her pride was more painful than the possible insult. It was too hard to think that she wasn't enough for Hap, but was too much for a normal guy. She peeled her shirt up over her head and tossed it aside. She was wearing a lacey, nearly see-through pink bra and she watched his eyes go to her chest automatically. "Yeah," there was a challenge to her voice. "Let's _try _again."

She heard the doorbell ring beyond her bedroom door as Derek approached again. She left it to Caroline and forced a smile she hoped was sexy as his hands found her hips again. This time, he stroked up her bare sides, going for her breasts the way she'd wanted him to originally. His touch wasn't as sure or firm as what she wanted, but her nipples were straining for some attention and she leaned into the caress. All of it was absolutely wrong, but she needed to try.

She had her eyes closed and was holding one of his hands, guiding his efforts, biting her lip because it finally felt good, when she heard Caroline shriek. And it wasn't a playful sound as if she were fooling around with Adam, it was a panicked.

"Ava!" she yelled a second later. "Ava! _He's here_!"

She realized who _he _was as her door crashed open against the wall. Ava spun, arms fanning out to block Derek on instinct. Happy stood in the doorway to her bedroom, one hand poised above the hilt of his knife. Before his expression locked down into one of untouchable fury, she caught a fast ripple of surprise. And something like hurt. But then his head tilted down as his eyes went black. She'd seen that snarl of his a thousand times, but it never failed to draw an anxious shudder out of her.

"Hap," she said, voice level. "Hap, just calm down a second."

More frightening than any kind of yelling, his words were low and raspy. "Who's this? This your boyfriend? You fuckin' him?"

"No," she tried to match his tone.

He came charging into the room and was in her face in a heartbeat. "Don't lie to me," he said. "Don't you dare stand there with your goddamn tits out and tell me you ain't fuckin' him."

"Happy," her voice caught on a squeak. "Just, please listen to me -,"

The blinds crashed around against the window as Derek fell into them. "Shit, Ava! What the hell? Who is this?"

The delicate, practiced calm in Happy snapped in half. Ava watched his head come up and he really looked at Derek for the first time. He wasn't an angry person, really he wasn't, but angry was all he ever seemed to be when it concerned her. Near tears, she moved to block him as he went after Derek. He caught her wrists and flung her sideways onto the bed.

"Put some fuckin' clothes on," he hissed.

Ava bounced on the mattress and struggled back to her feet. "Hap, don't! Don't hurt him!" But it was too late.

Derek made a half hearted attempt to shield his face as Hap grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and slammed him back against the window. The blinds crackled and popped and were finally pulled free of their casing and fell on top of Derek's head. Hap took advantage of the distraction and punched him. Ava felt like she was moving in slow motion as she lunged for them. Hap pulled his fist back and landed one, and then another solid blow to the poor kid's face. Flesh yielded to fist with a loud, smacking thud. Derek let out a yelp.

"Happy, stop!" Ava screamed. She grabbed his forearm with both hands as he reared back again. She wasn't strong enough to stop him, knew her attempts were feeble, but he froze.

His head turned to her slowly, like something out of a nightmare. His expression wasn't human. Derek groaned and slumped back against the window, not even trying to get away. Hap's other fist was still tangled up in the kid's shirt. He wasn't even breathing hard.

Ava adjusted her grip, trying to pull him to her and away from Derek. Her pulse was racing, the rush of blood loud in her ears as she waited. A skitter of emotion ran across Hap's face; she would have missed it if she'd blinked. But she saw it and felt her eyes widen when she realized her mistake. She may have denied having slept with Derek, but she'd defended him. She wasn't a hurt, bleeding, crying mess held captive at the hands of Richie Grant. She was topless in her bedroom with a boy. A man who _wasn't _Happy. And she was defending him.

"Hap -,"

He let go of Derek and pushed her roughly back towards the bed. Ava stumbled and managed to catch herself against the mattress before she fell. She sat down hard, not daring to so much as glance at Derek and make sure he was okay.

Hap picked up his ring where it rested on her heaving chest and pulled it towards him. The chain bit into her skin and yanked her head forward. She gasped.

"Do you think," his voice held no emotion whatsoever ", that I gave you this, my fuckin' ring, fuckin' left you a present, so you could go fuck some other dude?"

"I didn't -," he yanked on the necklace again ", - not yet. I haven't fucked him yet. And I won't."

She was staring at his boots now and he held her around the neck as if she were a dog he'd come home and found chewing up the furniture. He had that detached, professional facet of himself in place now, no longer enraged and passionately pissed off, but distant. Like he was on the job. It infuriated her.

Gemma's voice in her head fueled her when she spoke again. "What's it matter to you? You don't want me."

The air stirred as he moved away from her. "Stay," he told her in that same, flat tone as he stalked over toward Derek.

Ava gripped the comforter until her knuckles turned white, seething, as she watched him haul Derek to his feet and drag him stumbling and groaning to the door. He took him out into the hall and Caroline started talking fast. Sounds that overlapped and were too hard to identify echoed out in the living room and then the front door shut with a loud bang. When Hap returned, he was empty handed, and the rest of the apartment was quiet.

Ava waited, her whole body quivering she was so angry, as he came towards her. He halted when he was in front of her, but she refused to look up at him. Neither one of them was in any state in which to have _the talk_, but she didn't have to play his game. She had worshipped him with her eyes, her words, her body…and he'd given her nothing to hold on to. She was drowning and he just stood calmly on the sidelines and watched. She would never be able to control her physical craving for him, but she could change her behavior. And right now, she could stare at his knees and refuse him that little bit of softness he wanted to see.

She felt his fingers in her hair. He brushed a lock off her forehead and raked all the way through to the ends. His thumb traced her jaw line. But still, she didn't look up.

And then he picked up the ring again. He was rolling it between thumb and forefinger and Ava could feel the chain dancing against her neck. "What did you say to me?" he asked with that same deadly calm. "That I don't want you?"

She pulled in a deep breath and met his eyes. They burned like hot coals in his face and his jaw was clenched so tight she thought it might crack. His voice and his touch were the only things he was in control of at the moment. Old Ava would have smiled sweetly at him to diffuse all that tension – he was like a gun about to go off – but New Ava was tired of the unflappable killer being cruel with her and only her, and wanted to pull the trigger.

"Yeah," she challenged. "That's what I said."

One second she was sitting on the end of her bed, the next she was on her knees on the floor. Hap yanked her down with the necklace and a hard hand on her shoulder. She grabbed at his thighs to catch herself. The chain snapped and he let it fall, both his hands going for his belt buckle.

_Oh, God. _Ava closed her eyes and heard his zipper go down. _Oh, God. Shit…no. _She hadn't waited on him – even though he hadn't told her what the ring meant, even though she wasn't his Old Lady, he'd expected her to wait for him, clutching her pillow each night and dreaming about him. He'd caught her and he was hurt and pissed and he was going to show her, by God, why she was supposed to think of him and only him.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her head back. "Open your goddamn eyes."

When she did, she was greeted by the sight of his fully erect cock jutting out of his jeans. He tightened his grip and it felt like he might just rip all of her hair out.

The anger flooded out of her and instead she wanted to cry. How had they come to this? She'd always wanted him to want her so badly that it made him insanely jealous and possessive, but not like this. This was dark and angry and was rapidly venturing into rape territory if she told him no. She had two choices; resist and be taken by force, or go along with him and then throw him out of her life for good.

"Does it fuckin' look like I don't want you?" he hissed and shook her.

"No," she whispered. He pushed her into him and she felt like he'd died; like she was burying the man she loved when she reached for his cock.

**-O-**

It was no worse than it had been the night on the floor of his dorm room. But then she'd forced him into it; chased off his Crow Eater and laid down the challenge. Now though, the invasion hadn't been invited.

At least there was a bed this time and not a hard wooden floor. And at least he was too angry to worry about pushing her head down. Her quaking arms struggled to support both their weights. One of his fists was propped beside them on the mattress, but his other arm was banded around her stomach, holding her to him, his hand not massaging, but brutalizing her tits. She didn't know how long it had been, only that she didn't think she could take much more of it.

He was wedged deep inside her, sunk all the way up to his balls. The rhythm was ever changing; he'd pump hard a few times, let her find the pace, and then go still. He'd pull out almost all the way, until only the head of his cock was inside her, and make her wait until her building orgasm had faded. None of it was consistent and she couldn't keep up. Her whole body felt cramped up, frustrated and ready for the release to finally come, so aroused and wet that her juices trickled down the insides of her thighs.

Ava knew that he wasn't doing this because it felt good or because he had overwhelming self control, but because he wanted her to beg for it. He reminded her, with each thrust and each withdrawal, that _he _was the one who controlled her pleasure, and no other man. The back of her throat still tasted slightly salty of his cum and her eyes blurred until she couldn't see the bed beneath her. Everywhere their skin kissed was sweat-soaked and slippery.

He pinched her left nipple hard. "No one else knows how you like it, do they?" his voice was a deep-throated, lusty whisper in her ear. He let go and palmed her breast, kneaded it until her back arched into the touch involuntarily.

"No," she choked out.

He moved his hand to her other breast, cupping and rubbing hard, his thumb circling her areola. "Who gives you what you want?" he demanded.

He started to pull his cock out of her again, the friction causing her hips to buck involuntarily. "What's my name?"

She withheld her squeal. "Happy," she managed, and then the tears finally broke loose. She tried to cry quietly, but she couldn't, and the sound seemed to spur him on. His thrusts became regular, deep strokes, and even as she started to sob, she couldn't deny how good it felt. Her climax came quickly, her body tensing and convulsing under him as tears poured down her cheeks.

He came like an explosion, his cum flowing hot inside her. The intimacy and the power of his release had her shuddering, her arms threatening to collapse. And then she did collapse when he heaved against her one final time and took her to the bed with him.

He didn't pull out immediately, just lay on top of her, and she could feel his racing heart against her back. He was heavy, crushing her almost, but what took her breath away was the realization that they hadn't used a condom and he'd cum all over and inside of her.

They stayed like that for a long while. Ava was trapped on her stomach beneath him, trying unsuccessfully to stem the flow of her tears. She only cried harder when she felt his face against the back of her neck. He nudged her hair to the side and kissed her damp skin, sucked at the sensitive area where he'd yanked the chain from around her neck. His hands traced gentle patterns down the outsides of her arms.

Ava was devastated. Not only had she failed Gemma and all her queenly wisdom, but she'd failed herself as well. This had been her chance to stand up to him, finally confront him about their situation. And instead she'd been his submissive once more and he'd nearly choked her when he came in her mouth. And he'd fucked her without a condom.

She hated herself. And, for once, him.

**-O-**

Happy was surprised to see light pouring through the window when he started awake. The window that, thanks to him, didn't have any blinds to shield the bright morning rays, revealed it to be mid morning. He was on his back, an arm flung out across the bed beside him. He blinked and sat up and quickly realized that he was alone, which didn't surprise him.

The night before, his emotions had been too raw and the slight from her too great to just walk away. And what was he supposed to do? Storm out like some pussy and let that _other guy _have a go at her? When he'd charged through the door and had seen her with that kid, had seen his hands on her and her eyes closed like she was enjoying herself, he couldn't take it.

He'd never known what it was like to be jealous over a woman. She'd always looked at him, wanted him, smiled at him…he couldn't process this. Likewise he couldn't let her go with a stern look and a lecture. She had to understand, goddamnit. You couldn't be someone's and go around fucking other dudes.

That had been his thought process – make her pay, make her want it like nothing else, _make her love him _– up until he'd fallen on top of her. She'd been sobbing into the pillow because he wouldn't cave in and let her be his, and she'd thought he didn't want her. And then he'd remembered that she was only eighteen and that she had trusted and loved him her whole life, that he'd seen those little brown eyes shining up at him since she was a baby. He'd been horrified. She wasn't some passaround and wasn't some chick he'd been banging a few months; she was his Ava.

He had taken her again, sweetly even, gone slow and steady and kissed her neck the way she liked. But there was a red streak on her skin where he'd _ripped _his ring from around her neck. And she'd closed her eyes and let the tears roll down her cheeks soundlessly even when he was good to her.

Now he was alone in her bed and thought it might be better to just leave. She wouldn't want to see him after what he'd done.

But instead he climbed out from between the sheets and pulled on his jeans. A quick sweep of the little apartment proved that not only had the roommate not returned, but that Ava had locked herself in the bathroom. Hap could hear the shower running and braced a shoulder against the wall with a sigh. He'd decided something the night before, when she'd cried while he fucked her gently; that he couldn't keep going with things the way they were. It was time to say 'fuck you' to all the reasons why not, and make things right.

**-O-**

Ava hadn't wanted to fall asleep beside him, but she had been drained. She'd allowed herself a nap, and had been shocked to slip out of bed without disturbing him at six. She'd gone jogging, her sore muscles screaming for her to stop. But she'd needed it. She had to find that clarity Clay always insisted was so important, shut off the noise in her head.

Now she let the hot water pound all the tension and the stiffness out of her body. She'd been in so long that her fingers were beginning to prune and the steam was becoming oppressive. She shut off the water and toweled off, making everything take longer than was necessary; drying between each of her toes, wringing her hair out over and over before she wrapped it up in a towel turban on top of her head.

She buffed the steam off the mirror with a hand towel and took a good look at herself while she brushed her teeth. She had dark, tired circles under her eyes. A bright red ligature mark stood out on her pale throat where he'd pulled her around by the necklace. She'd have to wear a turtle neck or a scarf of some kind.

As she washed her face, Ava realized that she didn't smile anymore. Every one was fake and painful and she forced them so that her family would think she was okay. She was sad most of the time, lonely even in a room full of people. Nothing was fun anymore.

Last night had confirmed that it was way past time for a change. Her bullshit with Hap had been going on for a year, and she couldn't do it one more second.

When she shut off the tap, she heard a soft knock at the door. "Ava," Hap said, his voice muffled. "C'mon. I need to talk to you."

She pulled in a deep breath and gave herself a hard stare in the mirror. "No," she said firmly. "I'm not coming out until you leave."

"C'mon, baby, don't -,"

"Leave. Get out of my apartment. I'm not talking to you."

She held her breath a moment, listening, and finally heard the front door slam.

**Nov. 1, 2013**

Ava had thought she could move forward after that. But Caroline had moved in with Adam and hadn't returned; she said she loved Ava, but was too frightened of Happy and what he'd done to live with her anymore. And then Ava had missed her period and realized that she was pregnant.

She slipped her shades on as she walked out of the doctor's office. It was a cool morning, the autumn sun weak, but bright. She held her head up and kept her shoulders square as she crossed the lot to her truck. She passed a pregnant woman, a hand held under her round belly, her cheeks glowing, and wanted to scream. Ava had never given any thought to being a mother. She didn't like kids, didn't want them, and they had never played into her future fantasies about Happy.

Now, even though she'd had a panic attack when she'd read the result on that EPT test stick, she was sick inside. She'd had Hap's baby growing inside her, and now she didn't.

She pulled out her phone as she started her truck, dialed Happy's cell and waited for the voicemail prompt. "I have something really important to talk to you about," she said without identifying herself. "I'm in trouble and…I need to see you."

**TBC**


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: 28 is really just the overflow of 27, so early update. Then I'm going to make myself behave and space this shit out better.**

**Nov. 1, 2013**

She found him sitting on the curb in front of her building, smoking, when she got home from class. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky orange and streaked with fat cloud fingers of pink; the colors all reflected in the mirror-silver fuel tank of his bike. The lenses of his shades caught the fading light and it just made his face look harder, his expression more tense. She wasn't fooled by his forearms draped casually over his knees or the relaxed fingers that were curled around his cigarette. He was wired as hell, and all that calculated calm had the potential to evaporate in a second.

He had always been that way. He was the same killer now that he'd been eighteen years ago. But she'd always thought he had a soft spot for her. He certainly had for his mother; Mama Happy had held a special place with him. And once upon a time, he'd told her that she had a spot right up there with the old girl. There were two women he gave a shit about; his mother, and her.

Ava had been stupid to think that they could make the transition from man and child, protector and prone girl, to the place where they were now. She hadn't thought it would be so hard, or that it would hurt so much, but that transition had come. And she wasn't so sure all the memories and past kindnesses in the world could translate into viable, adult feelings on Hap's part.

He stood as she approached and ground out his smoke under his boot. "You a'ight? What's goin' on?"

"I'm…" she started to say 'fine', but sighed instead. "I'm not okay, not by a long shot, but I'm physically fine. I need to talk to you."

He nodded gravely, half frowning like he had known this was coming. "'Kay."

Ava studied his face for a moment, not quite sure what she was looking for. Caroline thought she was stupid for not being afraid of him, and maybe she was. Even now, after their last interaction, she wasn't frightened, but had this sinking suspicion that he wouldn't take the news of her miscarriage well. In fact, it might be the reason he'd been looking for to never come back.

"Let's go in," she said with a sigh, heading for the stairwell. "I need alcohol for this conversation."

**-O-**

Hap didn't ever drink vodka…kinda made him feel like a chick…but he wasn't about to tell the girl that. Ava was quieter than he'd seen her, more disturbed than he'd thought she'd be. He had known that she would be pissed with him about his last visit, but there was no evidence of that anger or hurt. She looked depressed, withdrawn, her knees pulled up on the sofa as she stared at the bottom of her glass. She no longer wore his ring around her neck. She could have put it on a new chain…but she hadn't.

He'd been thinking too much his last month on the road; about her mostly. And about how staying away and then seeing her in short, concentrated bursts made him crazier than the all the time routine. And that if by some miracle he was eventually able to quit being jealous, he'd invested too much time and affection over the years to ever stop worrying. So he'd come to a decision. Only she didn't look ready to hear much of anything.

He downed his vodka in two swallows and set the glass on the coffee table. "Ava -,"

"I went to the doctor this morning," she said. Her voice was cold and removed. She twirled her vodka, took a sip, and studied her fingernails. "I found out…about a week and a half ago…that I was pregnant."

All the air went out of the room. Dozens of images flashed through his mind, little flickering spots of color. Ava holding Jax's kid. Ava holding her own kid. Her dimples in a little round, baby face. A dirty house cluttered with kids' toys and dishes crusted with week old food. Ava tired, alone and depressed. A baby crying in a dark room. Panic and this odd surge of ownership slammed into one another in his chest and left him struggling to draw in his next breath. "Is…is it mine?" he finally managed.

Her eyes flashed up to his and her expression was one of shocked betrayal. Her voice kept that same detachment though. "Yes. It _was _yours. Past tense. I lost it this morning."

_Lost it. _He'd gotten her pregnant, as in with _his child_, and she'd lost it. It was as if it had never happened. She'd miscarried, therefore, no babies and no hopeless future for her, no obligation for him. That should have felt like nothing, like a little hiccup and then things would go back to normal.

But he'd gotten her _pregnant. _

"That's for the best, right?" he asked, not knowing what else to say. He didn't like, want or need kids. He didn't even really want to think about the fact that he had knocked up the little girl he used to babysit.

She was dreadfully still a moment, and then the façade dissolved. She slopped vodka as she slammed the glass down onto the table. Her blinks became rapid fire as she staggered to her feet. "Of course it is."

"Ava, I didn't -,"

"I was pregnant!" she yelled at him, voice cracking. "You came in here like a jealous fucking asshole and you got me pregnant! You…you…" she broke down, unable to talk anymore and just shook her head violently as her tears came.

Hap wanted her little outburst to piss him off. But he instead found it endearing that she'd tried to keep her cool, and hated that once again, he was the reason she was crying. All he did anymore was make her cry. And get her pregnant, apparently.

"Sweetheart," he reached for her as she stormed past him, but she shook him off. The slam of her bedroom door was loud and that _did _piss him off. Little brat couldn't just drop a bomb like that and storm out. He deserved the chance to defend himself.

He was sure to slam the front door just as loud as he left.

**-O-**

She'd had all these plans; this carefully thought out way to attack the issue and stay completely emotionless. Then she'd move on to Gemma's ultimatum business. But she had mentioned the baby and in one fast, horrifying vision, she'd _seen _the baby; its tan skin and brown eyes and little mouth smiling like she could never get Hap to. And in that moment the loss had become all the more real to her. And of course he was glad she'd lost it and didn't have any feelings on the matter whatsoever.

Now she lay on her bed, facing the window. It was dark out and she didn't have the energy to get up and turn on the lights, neither did she want to. She was tired of crying, tired of hurting, of wanting what was obviously never going to be hers. Had she thought he'd hold her and tell her it was okay? That he would apologize?

The lost baby and the anguish it was causing her was the icing on top of her shit cake of a year. She had never thought that the man who'd spent so much time protecting her would be the reason she was spiraling into full-blown, medication dependent depression.

Groggy, it took her a moment to identify the soft clicking sound over her shoulder. But when the mattress dipped behind her, she realized it had been her bedroom door opening. She couldn't believe he'd come back.

The bed springs creaked as he stretched out beside her and the sheets rustled. Ava shivered when she felt the warm weight of his arm drape across her waist. His hand pushed slowly under her wrist and slid beneath the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. She didn't resist as he spanned his hand low across her belly, two fingers dipping into the waistband of her shorts until his palm covered the skin above her womb. Where the baby had been.

A slew of emotions washed through her as Hap slowly pulled her back against his chest. She felt his face in her hair. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

The tears that came this time were mixed pain and relief. "I didn't really want kids," she whispered hoarsely. "I swear…but…it was _ours_, Hap. Yours and mine. I didn't want it to hurt this bad, but it does."

"I know," he stroked her stomach. "I know it hurts."

His body was warm and strong around hers, comforting and not threatening like it had been the last time. She felt sleep tugging her under and tried, to no avail, to fight it off. "I want it to be like it was," she murmured before she drifted off. "Back when you loved me."

**-O-**

Happy again awoke alone. He was a light sleeper so it was a little unnerving that the kid could give him the slip so easily. He'd left his boots and his cut in the living room the night before, but was fully clothed otherwise. And once he was upright and rubbing the grit out of his eyes with the heels of his hands, his mind started racing again. Ava had miscarried _his kid_. That was never going to get easy to think about.

He found her in the living room, on the sofa in her pajamas, his cut in her lap. She was tracing the letters in his top rocker when he entered and she looked up, her gaze steady and not at all guilty over fondling his cut. Her hair was rumpled and her smooth, pale cheeks were free of makeup. She looked young. Innocent.

"I'm sorry I freaked out on you last night," Ava said evenly. "I didn't mean to and I know that was embarrassing for you."

He was a little dumbfounded. "Oh…no. It's cool."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to have that talk now."

There was something different about her voice that didn't match the cute, just out of bed way she looked in her t-shirt and flannel boxers. Hap had no idea what she was about to say and he found that odd. Still, he nodded and sat down in the battered recliner across from her. "Sure."

Ava glanced down at the cut again, fingers passing over the reaper. "I was born into this family," she started. "I'm not a thrill seeker or a chick who likes bad boys. I didn't lose my way and get hooked on crank and come to the Sons for a way out. My dad's a Crow and my mom is Gemma Teller's cousin…this club is in my _blood_."

He stared at her, transfixed, and her eyes slowly lifted to meet his. "I almost died before I was born. People have wanted me dead my whole life. You know that, Hap, you were there. You looked out for Mom and me when no one else could." Her stare didn't waver. "And I've loved you since I was old enough to string those three words together."

Something in his chest tightened in silent agreement. He felt himself lean forward, elbows on his knees so that he was just that much closer to her.

"I may have made good grades," she went on, smoothing a hand through her hair. "And I may have made it into college. But I won't ever stop being a part of this club. My whole family is affiliated with the Sons, so you can't keep me away from that. And I'm not some dumb clingy bitch who doesn't understand that the club comes first, or that you guys have to be on the road, or that awful, violent, terrible shit happens in this world. The Irish tried to kill my mother multiple times. So you can't play off that I'm too dumb to understand your world."

"I never said -,"

She held up a hand and he halted, more out of curiosity than obedience. "Please…I can only channel Gemma for so long. Let me finish?"

Hap almost smiled, but managed to nod instead.

Ava pulled in a deep breath that lifted her little shoulders inside the shirt. "I love you more than I'll ever love anyone. That's not teenage, _Twilight _bullshit. I know you, know your life, and I _love _you. I used to think you felt something like that too…but…now I'm not so sure." She shook her head. "I know why you keep coming back. And I know what being a Nomad means…no, Tig told me," she said hurriedly when he started to frown. "I can stand the waiting…but only if I know that you want to come back to me. When you think about home…I want you to think about me."

He swallowed hard. She'd always been home. Seattle, Charming, now fucking Sacramento…Ava was home. His bright shiny spot of good. His untouched good luck charm. His little girl. But he'd never known how to tell her that.

"You scared Caroline out," she said. "She left and I picked up a shift at McDonald's on top of my other job. I'm running out of money and school is…"

She was losing strength, he could tell. She rubbed at her eyes and sighed. "I can't keep doing whatever it is we're doing. I can't be your fuck buddy or your booty call. I can handle the hardships of the life…but I can't handle all this wondering. You're breaking my heart and that's not fair." Ava looked down at his cut again and her frame straightened, almost like she was drawing power from the broken-in leather. When she glanced up, her eyes were shining. Not with tears, but something else.

"I am the _VP's _daughter and the _President's _cousin," she said with conviction. Her eyes bored into his. "And I'm Old Lady material. I deserve respect for that. You'll always be my family, but if you can't make a decision, we're through. For good."

She shook as she said the last part, like now that she'd let out all that she'd been holding in, she was cold and tired. She didn't look away from him though. Her stare was steady. Her eyes clear and tearless.

He felt like he should have expected this. How long could one of those damn Lawson women go without laying down the law? He rubbed a hand back across his scalp. Sighed. Opened his mouth to speak…and his phone rang.

Ava tilted her head to the side, lips pursed. "You gonna get that?"

He frowned as he dug his cell out of his pocket. He wasn't sure he liked this strong bitch version of the girl. "Yeah?" he answered gruffly.

"Hap," Quinn greeted. "Prez called. They got something going down in Charming and he wants some Nomad backup. You and Luther need to get over there ASAP."

"Yeah," he sighed again, this time for another reason. At this rate, their shit would never get worked out. He glanced across at her as he snapped his phone shut. And instead of a huffy broad with a pout and a whine about how he was always leaving, he met that steady, jaded look of a _real _club woman. Like her mother. Like Gemma.

"Quinn?"

He nodded.

She tossed him his cut and he caught it in one hand.

Hap could feel her eyes on him as he laced up his boots and shrugged into his cut. She was hoping, waiting for an answer from him before he left. "Lock your door," he told her as he turned to leave.

She didn't say anything, but her disappointment was palpable.

**TBC**


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: I'm truly astonished at all the amazing feedback. So, I couldn't leave you guys hanging after the last chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Song Ava sings is "Love the Way You Lie" by Eminem and Rihanna. And the Rebels are not an actual MC, just based on one. I was a little afraid they'd hunt me down if I referred to the actual club.**

…

"You were the one who wanted to talk," Jax said, a touch of anger in his voice. "So talk, Doyle."

William Doyle had taken over the SOA/IRA relations once the Hayes were…removed from the scene. In a lot of ways, he was the easiest Irishman they'd ever dealt with. Doyle didn't play games; he was tied in fast and hard with Jimmy O'Phelan and he made no pretenses of friendship or fond feelings. It was strictly business. Which, for the most part, Hap appreciated, never a bullshitter himself.

But this afternoon, sitting at a table with Luther and Juice, the rest of the Charming Sons scattered around the common room, Happy was unsettled. Opie and Tig stood at opposite ends of the bar, deceptively relaxed with their arms folded over the bar top. Jax, Chibs and Doyle were at a table, the President with his arms folded and the VP looking particularly on edge. Tux stood at the door, a hand braced on the butt of the 9 mm sticking out of his waistband. Bobby was standing against a wooden support column, staring at the Irishman.

"Okay then," Doyle shrugged. "We caught word the Sons are doing business in Florida now. Other clubs. We want you to set up a meet."

Something prickled at the back of Hap's mind. He'd been in Florida and had met with several charter Presidents of the Rebels and knew that the east coast MCs had their own gun contacts. They wouldn't need the IRA.

"What are you talkin' about, other clubs?" Jax feigned ignorance, frowning.

Doyle raked a hand through hair that was just a shade dark enough to not look cliché Irish red. "You can't play dumb with me, Jackson. Jimmy _knows _about yer dealin's with east coast clubs. He wants their business too and he's gonna hold you to yer agreement to reach out for him."

Hap watched Chibs' brows crank low over his eyes at the mention of Jimmy and felt himself do the same. So that's what this was. Jimmy was starting to question how long Jax would uphold his agreement with the Irish and he wanted to open doors to new business before those ties were severed.

"My agreement with Jimmy was to buy guns," Jax said, voice hard. "I didn't sign on to bring in other MCs. That shit's not gonna fly."

"The agreement was for you to cooperate," Doyle clarified. "You tellin' me you want to break that contract?"

A ripple of tension ran through the room. The lives of everyone in the clubhouse had been touched by Jimmy's cruelty – whether directly or indirectly. "No need to make threats, Doyle," Bobby cautioned.

Jax gave a little facial shrug and held up a hand to silence the Secretary. "What if I do?" he asked the Irishman.

Doyle tilted his head and the overhead lighting glazed an oily sheen across the freckles on his nose. He nearly smiled and though it wasn't an intimidating expression, it spoke volumes of a confidence that seemed to put every Son in the room on edge. "How's yer boy doin'?" he asked Jax conversationally.

The President ground his jaw but said nothing.

"Yer mistress?" he turned to Chibs "I saw her when I came in…lovely as ever she is." Doyle didn't so much as blink as he stared down the Scotsman. "And what about the girl?" He grinned. "I hear Sacramento's lovely this time of year."

Hap stood so fast his chair toppled backward and fell to the floor planks with a sound like a gunshot. Sacramento? How the fuck did the Irish know Ava was in Sacramento? All eyes snapped towards him and he had to force his fists to unclench. Tig was giving him a stern look. _Keep cool, damnit. _Slowly, he picked up his chair and sat again.

Juice's eyes looked ready to bug out of his head. "How do they know?" he whispered across the table.

Hap shook his head and stared at Doyle who, delightedly, looked like he knew he'd struck a nerve with someone besides the Scot. "You know," he mused. "If we can't work things out, my boys and me will have some time off. Flynn's in Oakland and he's just dyin' to see more of California. I think he's due a trip."

Staring at the Irishman and his smirking green eyes, Hap was transported back to a blindingly bright day on the side of the highway, the sun reflecting off the bare earth in white hot, shimmering waves. A Charger, upside down and spewing steam, the dead Irishman inside. Ava thirteen and trembling as she clung to him so tightly on the back of his bike.

Rage coursed through him, making his muscles jump beneath his skin. He'd been so fucking stupid. It shouldn't have, but it had taken a thinly veiled threat from an old enemy to forge what he'd been feeling into something tangible. The right and wrong of it, the issues of her future or school, her success, all of it splintered away from the real issue until he was so sure, so one hundred percent certain about what he had to do, it felt hot and insistent as a poker inside his head. Ava had been right. Wherever she went, whoever she became, whatever the company she kept, there would always be people like Jimmy O and this jackass Doyle who would use her as leverage with the club. Her ties to her father were enough to get her killed. Adding himself to the mix only served to keep her safer, not condemn her.

Hap didn't want a steady woman, didn't have the emotional capacity to fall victim to some bitch…but Ava was neither of those things and he had no say so in the matter anymore. He physically could not stand by and let anything happen to her. Not her. Not the little girl he'd sat doodling with at Maggie's kitchen table. Not the beautiful teenager he'd impregnated and who had cried over the child she'd lost.

It was dreadfully silent for a long spell in the clubhouse. Chairs creaked under shifting weight and the cooler behind the bar whirred and thumped at intervals. Finally, Jax braced his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "I'll make some calls," he told Doyle with a sigh. "I'm sure the Rebels will be interested."

"Good." Doyle smiled and downed the last of his beer. He stood and everyone else followed suit. "Jackson," he extended his hand for a shake the Prez reluctantly accepted. "Filip," he winked at Chibs. "Say 'hello' to your girls for us, then."

"Tux," Jax nodded to their newest patch holder. "Why don't you walk our _friend _out the back door, huh?"

As the kid hustled to comply, Chibs turned around and locked eyes with Happy. Hap waited a beat, giving him a chance to protest if he wanted to, but couldn't wait too long. He was on a mission at this point and wasn't going to sit around and chat. Jax may have agreed, but no one put it past the bastards not to pay Ava a visit.

He punched through the front door of the clubhouse and out into the waning afternoon. Moments later he heard boots behind him on the asphalt.

"Hap," Chibs called and he forced himself to halt and face the other man.

The VP and Juice were walking towards him at a fast clip. "Jackie-boy wants to end things," Chibs said in a rush. "We ain't trustin' those assholes anymore."

It was what he'd hoped to hear. Hap nodded. "I'm gonna go get her."

"Hap -,"

"I'm not fuckin' aruguin' with you, goddamnit," he took a threatening step towards him. "I let you kick my ass last time, but that ain't happenin' again. "I'm gonna go get _my _-,"

"Whoa," Chibs held up a hand. He raised his brows, almost looking amused. "I was _gonna _say, be careful."

"Oh." Hap scratched at his head, too wound up to keep still. "Yeah." He shot a look at a baffled Juice as he turned. "Call Mayday. He can get to her before I can. We'll be back in a few hours."

**-O-**

"_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn…well that's alright because I like the way it hurts…" _Ava sang softly to herself in an effort to drown out the country bullshit pouring out of the store speakers. The song she'd unconsciously chosen disturbed her almost as badly as the fact that she now knew the words to every Reba McEntire song ever recorded.

She had been hoping that school and work would distract her from the fact that she'd left herself completely exposed, emotionally naked in front of Hap, and he'd walked away. She knew that the club came first and that if he was given an order, he had to follow through. But he could have left her with _some _idea of his intentions. And every time she so much as blinked, she saw that mental image of the lost baby and she wanted to burst into tears all over again. It haunted her, teased her with what she hadn't known she wanted, but now knew she'd never have. Now she was doing inventory and finding comfort in Eminem songs. What a sad loser she was.

She glanced up from the clipboard she held and scanned the long shelf in front of her until her eyes landed on the pair of boots she'd been ogling for weeks. They were a supple, slouched brown leather with two inch heels and squared toes. She'd tried them on in secret and had been delighted with the way they hugged her slim calves and went all the way almost to her knees. The toes had a western flare, like so many of the cowboy boots lining the walls in the Boot Shack, but there were biker ring details on the ankles and buckles at the top. She was in love with them but couldn't afford the four hundred dollar price tag.

"Ava," she snapped her head around at the sound of her manager's voice. Colleen stood at end of the aisle. "There's a couple guys over in men's footwear looking at biker boots and I figured since you seem to know something about that…"

"I'm coming," she assured with a sigh. She stowed the clipboard at the end of the aisle and headed down the rows and rows of boots toward the section over in men's where they kept the chaps and leather works.

It was a massive store and the whole building smelled of leather and animal hide. The front half was devoted to jeans, shirts, purses, wallets…all of it rhinestone encrusted. And the back half was all boots. Aside from the uniform and an occasional woman who wanted help squeezing into a pair of Rockies jeans that weren't designed to go over an ass that size, she liked the place.

She swung around the end of the appropriate aisle, professional fake smile already in place, and froze. She was staring at two reapers affixed to the cuts of two Sons she didn't recognize. One of them was huge, MMA fighter huge, and turned at the muffled sounds of her boot heels on the carpet.

He had the sleeves cut out of his shirt to expose arms as big around as her waist, covered in tattoos she didn't have time to identify. He had a black bandana on his head, the tail end of a long, dark braid, disappearing over his shoulder. His cut identified him as a Nomad, and after Tig's little death squad speech, she could believe it. His buddy was slight and wiry, hair going gray at the temples, longer on top in an almost faux-hawk. He was wearing the white shirt with the scythe on it she'd seen on Jax a number of times, and quickly joined his friend's shrewd examination of her as she came to a halt in front of them.

Ava glanced down at her high, tight Wranglers and pink tank top silk screened with the Cruel Girl jeans logo. She had gaudy, crystal bauble earrings and a belt buckle that matched. She could feel their eyes on her and wondered yet if they had any idea who she was, or if they were just looking for a good time with a cowgirl. "I heard you guys need help with boots?" she asked cautiously.

They both grinned. "Damn…we finally get to meet the famous miss Ava," the big guy said with a chuckle. He extended a beefy hand. "I always did want to shake the hand of the woman who could get Hap all crazy like that."

Any trepidation she'd had bled out of her system, replaced now with a warmth. These guys knew her; her name, what she looked like apparently. Hap had talked about her. "Ava Telford," she smiled as she took his hand, her fingers dwarfed inside his.

"Mayday," he offered, giving her a gentle shake.

"And Wizard," the other guy said as she reached for his hand. He winked. "You look very much like your dad, darlin'."

She nodded. "So they tell me. What're you guys doing in Sacramento? Hap's on his way to Charming."

"Well," Mayday grimaced. "That's why we're here…"

**-O-**

Some of Hap's anxiety lessened when he pulled up to her building and saw Mayday and Wizard backed in at the curb. "She's fine, bro," Mayday assured as he walked toward them.

"She ain't gonna want to see me," Hap admitted. "Gimme ten mnutes."

Mayday shrugged and grinned. "Whatever. Take all the time you need."

Yeah. It could take days to rectify his countless grievances committed against her. He'd had a two hour ride to rehearse what he was going to say, but he'd spent all that time imagining ways to make those Irish assholes suffer instead. He had almost hoped there was an ambush waiting for him, give him something to do with all the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He wasn't nervous about his own revelation – at this point, nothing was clearer in his mind – but wondered if it was too late. Ava was a thinker, but when it came to him, she'd always run on pure emotion, and if she was still fuming, he could have an argument on his hands. He'd carry her over his shoulder if he had to, but would rather take a willing girl back to Charming.

He took the stairs fast, feeling like they were running out of time. Every second they were delayed was one in which the Irish could gain ground. And that little bit of fear for her was both familiar and welcome. Worrying about her told him this was right. Worry meant something.

**-O-**

Ava was tugging her old reliable black boots on over a pair of leggings when she heard the loud knock on her door. She was sitting on the edge of her bed and her body told her to go run answer it. Like a terrier excited about who'd come. But she didn't get up immediately, waiting until the second knock and the "C'mon, Ava," had been shouted through the door.

Happy barely gave her time to get the door open before he was charging into her living room, a live wire all juiced up and jumping around loose at the end of a telephone pole. She regarded him coolly as she shut the door and headed for her bedroom. "Mayday said I needed to pack, but he wouldn't say why. Do I get an explanation? Or is that too many words for you?"

He'd been pacing and sweeping the room with his eyes and his head snapped up towards her. "Irish," he said flatly. "They know where you are and were threatenin' to come by here if Jax didn't play ball."

Her pulse leaped from a stand still to a gallop, leaving her breathless. "Jimmy?" she choked out.

He nodded. "Jax wants to move on 'em, but that's not happenin' till I've got you locked up safe."

The personal note to his words fell on deaf ears. She shook her head in hopes of clearing it. "Lockdown?"

"Yeah. Get your shit, kid, we leave on bikes in ten."

Ava went to her room and dumped her duffel bag out on top of the bed. She would have to travel light, but she wasn't going to argue about taking her truck. Having a vehicle – one the Irish had seen before no less – was a great big, hulking target on the highway. Bikes were fast and maneuverable and they'd never catch them on two wheels. Her stomach crimped up in an anxious knot as she went to her closet and dug out the leather hobo purse her mother had given her years ago for just such a purpose. It had a long strap that she could stick her head and shoulder through, a zipper to keep all her shit inside. She hastily crammed in an extra outfit, some underwear, her toiletry kit and zipped it up.

Happy was braced in the doorway of her bedroom as she stood. She had this fleeting jolt of anger – he still hadn't told her shit about what she'd said earlier – but she supposed they had bigger issues at the moment.

"I'm ready," she said, coming to stand in front of him.

She thought he would head straight for the door and drag her along, but he instead stared at her, his face ten different kinds of intense. He had his hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side. It was like he could see _through _her or something. She felt a little uncomfortable almost.

"Hap -,"

"I'm not gonna put up with your dad's shit," he said levelly, his eyes not leaving hers. "If he tries to start some shit when we get back to Charming, VP or not, I'm gonna beat his ass."

Ava felt her brows scale her forehead. "Um…okay…why?"

"'Cause _I'm _the one who's kept you safe and he's not gonna tell me I can't have you."

She must have hit her head. When she went to her closet, she surely must have whacked her noggin against the door and blacked out. Because a dream sequence was the only thing that could explain what was coming out of his mouth now.

And then, to her amazement, he almost smiled. "I heard what you said. Earlier. I'm not sure I like it when you 'channel Gemma', but I heard you."

She pulled in a slow breath; her heart feeling like it could stall out any second. She was too frightened he might change his mind to hope for a meaning behind what he was saying.

His face scrunched up. "You're young, too young to get tied down, but I can't help that anymore and neither can you."

If it was possible, her pulse accelerated further. Her hand came up to her throat and she felt her skin quivering.

"You're quitting both your jobs," he said firmly. "You ain't gonna work and go to school."

"But I -,"

"I'm payin' your rent. So you don't have to worry about shit."

"Why?"

"Because…" his sighed and she was suddenly very aware of how much older than her he was. The lines that time and sun had pressed into his skin twisted and his face looked pained. "Because I let you down," she didn't miss how his eyes went to her flat belly and then back up. The baby. "And I'm done with that – not being there, not taking care of you like I should. I don't give a _fuck _about anything else if you're hurtin' this bad."

Her hand went subconsciously to her stomach and she felt tears burn the corners of her eyes, but this time because of his kindness and not frustration.

Hap tilted his head the other way so that it rested against the door jamb. His face softened just a tad, his eyes enlarged. "I don't like the sound of _Old Lady _-,"

Her breath hitched and soon she was breathing like a horse that had just run the Derby and couldn't stop.

" – but you're my girl. And I love you. So I guess that's gonna have to do for now."

Ava opened her mouth and no sound came out. She worked her jaw and was aware that her arms were shaking bad enough to warrant a palsy diagnosis. But she could only stare at him.

He shifted, obviously uncomfortable with what he'd just said. "Or, you know…unless you're pissed and you changed your mind." He frowned. "I don't really know how to do any of this -,"

Her bag hit the floor with a dull thump as she launched herself at him. "Whoa," Hap almost laughed as she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Her throat closed up and she was afraid she'd burst into tears when his arms came around her and returned the gesture.

He loved her.

He wanted her.

She'd lost his baby and he was sad about it.

Old Lady.

She was breathing in great big, shuddering draws, her chest pressed flat to his and making it difficult. She couldn't talk and couldn't stop shaking, was overwhelmed afresh with her loss, but she was soaring, too elated to even form rational thoughts.

She hugged him for a long moment, not wanting to let go. "C'mon," he said finally, kissing the top of her head. "We gotta go."

**TBC**

**Much more drama to come in Charming. **


	30. Chapter 30

Riding double behind Happy had always been so unlike riding with her dad or Jax. If SAMCRO was the infantry of the MC armed forces, the Nomads were the Air Force; jet fighters that dipped and fishtailed, sleek and efficient. Truly the death squad.

Ava was pressed against every inch of his back, her hands linked tight around his waist, her cheek on his shoulder. The outsides of his thighs were hard against the insides of hers. There was no such thing as personal space on the back of a Dyna; she clung to him, as close as if they were fucking, moving with him instead of against him.

In the dark, the cars they passed were flashes of shadow and blindingly bright lights. The wind compressed when they were alongside another vehicle and her hair twisted and flapped out from beneath her helmet, the air rushing up the sleeves of her jacket and leaving goose bumps on her bare arms.

Hap took the lead and Mayday and Wizard followed, always in sight of one another, but not in formation. He weaved in and out of the slower traffic, taking her breath with some of the maneuvering. But she was never afraid; he wouldn't do something stupid to get her hurt. And she knew that he hurried for good reason. Each dark, shapeless sedan they whipped past could have been one of William Doyle's goons. And none of them could have caught the three Nomads if they'd wanted to. As they raced towards Charming, Ava found herself smiling into the wind on several occasions. When she entered the clubhouse and all the guys were serious and her mother was hugging her, the reality of the situation would come slamming back into her. But for now, the night was cool and fast slipping around them, and she was riding behind her man. _Her _man, as in _hers_. And that was just too wonderful for words.

**-O-**

"_I'm gonna go get _my _-,"_

Happy hadn't had to finish that statement for Chibs to understand the meaning behind it. Doyle's mention of Sacramento had pushed the killer's buttons just that much too far, and when Hap returned with Ava in tow, Chibs now had no question as to whether or not he'd lay claim to her. Girl? Property? Bitch? Old Lady? No matter, he was going to say she was his in some fashion.

And with a sinking heart, Chibs realized he wasn't going to stand up to him about it. As a father, the thought killed him. But it wasn't as terrifying as Doyle's knowing little smirk when he'd asked about Sacramento. It would be a relief to keep Ava within the club like this. He would rather it had been some careful, doe-eyed Prospect, but Ava was eighteen now and…shit…he knew Hap would look after her better than anyone else would.

Night had fallen outside and the women were lugging in last minute groceries and overnight supplies. Maggie scooped Johnny out of Tara's arms so the doc could untangle the medical bags draped over her shoulders. Maggie came up to him with the eleven-month-old bouncing on her hip.

"I think we've got everything," she sounded a little breathless. Her eyes darted around the common room that was full of all the bodies they could round up on last minute notice. No one had bothered to hunt down Bobby's ex wives or kids, Otto's former Old Lady and their daughter. It was just close family. "Where's out girl?" she asked when her visual sweep turned up empty.

Chibs sighed. "Hap's bringin' her."

Her shoulders sagged with relief. Maggie knew too; that she was as safe as was possible with the Nomad.

"About that," he went on, reaching absently to pet the baby's head. "I think you may have gained yourself a son…"

**-O-**

Two armed Prospects Ava had never seen before stood guard at the T-M gate. The dull flash of headlights on blue made the AKs over their shoulders obvious, and served to make her that much more nervous.

The lot was packed with bikes and cars, but no fires burned and when Hap killed the engine, her ears weren't assaulted with Jesse James Dupree's voice screeching through the outdoor speakers. This was not a party. Still humming after the ride, she steadied herself with a hand on Hap's shoulder as she dismounted and her boot heels clicked onto the pavement. Now, safe at the clubhouse, some of the urgency seemed to lessen, and Ava watched him stand and remove his helmet as she unbuckled her own. He was still in the nighttime riding glasses with the clear lenses that made all the boys look a little like ghetto accountants, and she couldn't help but smile as she propped the helmet on the seat.

"Don't laugh at me," he scolded lightly, but grinned.

She chuckled and reached to rake the tangles of helmet-mashed hair off her face, but Hap beat her to it, sweeping his hand roughly through the dark mess and pulling her head up for a kiss. He brushed his thumb across her cheek when he pulled back. "It's gonna be alright," he assured and she knew he wasn't just talking about the Irish.

Ava nodded and she thought her chest might just swell until it burst looking up at him. She committed the scene to memory; every detail of his face against the indigo sky, the feel of his hand cradling her head, those stupid glasses he hadn't taken off yet. Clubhouse or not, she wouldn't have argued a second if he had put her over his bike and taken her right there. He'd told her he loved her, and now she wanted to feel it.

"You got your shit?" he asked, breaking the spell. She nodded as he stowed his glasses in a cut pocket. "Let's go."

Mayday and Wizard fell into step alongside them as they walked toward the clubhouse and Ava realized they had been waiting and had seen their little exchange. On second thought, better for Hap to _not _put her over his bike.

The door of the clubhouse was open and light spilled out onto the pavement. Voices tumbled indistinguishable and loud inside and Ava felt a sudden flutter of trepidation. Everyone would be present and she wasn't sure what sort of reaction to expect. Had Hap made his intentions clear before he left? Or would this be a surprise? Would he announce it to the room? Would her father put up a fight? Lightheaded, she slipped a hand in one of his baggy back pockets and pressed flushed to his side as they stepped into the chaos.

Across the sea of bobbing heads, Tig spotted them first, nodded in acknowledgement, and nudged Chibs. Ava bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from wincing as her father waded through the crowd. She wasn't sure if she shuddered or leaned into Happy, but as if he sensed her nervousness, he draped an arm across her shoulders.

Chibs frowned and she could feel Hap tense in preparation, but her dad extended a hand. "Brother. Appreciate it."

"'Course," he accepted the shake.

Ava was stunned as Hap released her and she stepped into Chibs' waiting hug. "You okay, darlin'?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm good, Dad," she assured. She smiled when she pulled away and he returned the expression almost reluctantly. His eyes looked sad. "Really," she assured, some of her excitement returning. "I'm so fine I'm spectacular, Da," she tweaked her voice a bit, added her best adaptation of a Scottish accent.

His smile widened and he squeezed her shoulders. "Best go find your mum. She's frettin'." He glanced to Happy and nodded. "We gotta talk shop."

Ava stood, stunned, as they headed for the chapel, Hap pinching her side affectionately as he walked away. Was that it? No fireworks? No _get the hell away from my daughter_?

She didn't get to wonder long as she caught Maggie's gaze from over at the bar and her mother came rushing forward. Ava met her halfway and returned her embrace full force. "I fucking hate those Irish bastards," Maggie said quietly. But then pushed her back and smiled excitedly. "Your dad told me," she sounded calmer than she looked. She fiddled with the high collar of Ava's riding jacket. "Did he…Hap…did he say anything to you, about -,"

"Old Lady," Ava said. The butterflies in her stomach surged and she fought to keep her tone from venturing into breathless shriek territory.

Maggie's eyes widened.

"Mom, he…" she was smiling too wide to talk almost. "He called me his Old Lady."

"Well, it's about fucking time," Maggie huffed. She was smiling though, and her eyes were glazed with moisture. "Oh, sweetheart," she hugged her again. "Boys are so stupid sometimes, but they _do _get it right. Eventually." When she pulled away, Maggie was dabbing unsuccessfully at her eyes and Ava felt a lump form in her own throat. If anyone knew what it was like to want something and not be able to have it, it was her mother.

"C'mon," Maggie put an arm around her shoulders and steered her through the crowd. "Let's find a room for your stuff."

**-O-**

Hap found his usual chair at the end of table and was surprised to glance up and see Koz and Glen leaned back against the wall behind Bobby. "Yo."

Koz gave him an up nod and a sideways smile.

"When they'd call you?"

"We were heading back up from Vegas," Glen explained around a smoke while he searched for his lighter. "Jax called."

"And you knew we wanted in on a good ass-stompin'," Koz finished with a grin. "Where you been? You go get your girl?" but something about his smile told Hap he already knew the answer to that.

"Yeah," he threw him a scowl, but couldn't bite back his own grin. Having her safe under the clubhouse roof had taken a huge weight off his shoulders. Now it was on to the fun part – getting rid of the assholes.

"You see anything on the way back?" Tig asked from the other end of the table. "Any tails?"

"Not that I could tell. But we were doin' eighty-five most of the way. Couldn't have caught us even if they were there."

Chibs came into the chapel with Jax on his heels and caught the last of it, but didn't say anything. He shook his head as he closed the double doors to the chapel. Once he and Jax were seated, all chatter died away and the room became silent. The soft rumble of voices was a dull murmur through the walls and Jax, as was his style, paused a moment until he was sure he had every eye in the room.

"We've been doin' business with the True IRA since my dad was in this chair," he started. "I think we've all got our ideas about runnin' guns, but that's not what this is about. Regardless of where we go after this with the business, the Irish are done threatenin' the women and children of this club." He paused and there were nods all around. "Juice, did you make the calls?"

"Yeah," he leaned forward onto the table. He spared a fast look at all his brothers before leveling on Jax's stare. "All the charter Presidents…Devil's Tribe, Vegas, Oregon…they're all on board." Koz and Glen were nodding behind him. Juice shrugged. "I mean, some of the guys are worried about not having guns, but they all know about Abel and Ava. They're cool."

"Good," Jax nodded, looking relieved. "What about the safe house?"

"Doyle's boy Flynn _is _In Oakland like he said," Bobby spoke up. "They keep the guns in the basement of some shit house in the slums."

Juice nodded. "Ain't got a boat anymore. Someone brings in the guns and they store 'em, so except for a car or two, no big escape plans."

"They won't all be at the safe house at once," Chibs reminded. "We won't get 'em all if we go in."

"Set a meet with Doyle," Opie said with a shrug. "Draw him out; he'll bring some of his crew and leave the rest behind with the guns."

"Aye," Chibs nodded. "He don't travel without three of his thugs with 'im."

"That leaves…" Juice squinted while he did the math. "Six left? Yeah. Six."

"What's your plan?" Hap couldn't help but ask. This was starting, to his excitement, to sound a lot like a slaughter fest

The President scraped a tired hand down his chin and glanced at Juice. "You called McGee?"

He nodded.

Jax looked back at Happy. "We're gonna sever all ties…Belfast, here…everything. Without Sons support over there, I figure they won't risk a counter attack. And I'm goddamn sick and tired of this terrorist women and children shit. We send a message; take the guns, burn the house…" his face hardened just a tad, reminding everyone that he was no longer the hippy he'd been before his mother's rape and son's kidnapping. "We kill 'em all."

Hap's physical reaction was all too familiar; the stilling of his muscles, that wash of relaxation and calm. It was inaction that made him anxious and had him worried; having a plan chilled him out. His girl was safe and the Irish bastards who'd threatened her were going to die. He could do that. He was good at that. He liked that. Taking a life was a responsibility he took seriously, one he treasured almost. He protected his club, his family, and they depended on him for that. Needed him. Beyond the club, nothing mattered to him, and that black and white conviction had given him the strong constitution to do what some members couldn't bring themselves to. And it left him uncluttered and not at all guilty to hold his girl after he slit a man's throat. Ava was Ava, and whoever he'd offed wasn't, no further explanation necessary.

"I figure we'll set up two teams," Jax went on. "One will go with me to meet Doyle, and the other will do the house cleanin'. Glen, you think you and your Prospects can stick around here, watch things?

He nodded.

Jax glanced around the table. "That leaves -,"

"House," Happy and Chibs said at the same time, then looked at one another. Hap thought the Scotsman almost smiled at him.

"Big surprise," Jax said wryly. "A'ight. Let's set it up."

**-O-**

"Come on, Avvvvvaaaaa!" Abel whined. He shoved the pad of paper towards her more roughly, the pencil rolling off and across the table.

She cocked her head and gave him a flat stare, one he was fast to return. At five, he was of course the smartest human being to grace the planet and more than a little full of his daddy's almighty bullshit. "I'm not your trained monkey," she told him. "Why don't you draw your own motorcycle?"

"Because," he rolled his eyes. "Guys don't draw. That's girl stuff and you're a girl, so draw."

"Abel? Are you being sweet?" Tara called from the bar.

"Yes," he insisted loudly.

Ava gave her a tight, _watch this _smile that seemed to relieve the doc's worry and then turned it on the kid. "Guys don't draw? Is that more of your dad's bullsh…crap? Huh?"

Abel folded his arms and shrugged, his light hair flouncing across his forehead. "Dad knows things. He's the _President_."

"He's also not the leading authority on guys. Plenty of guys draw."

He frowned at her.

"Happy draws all the time."

"No way."

"Yes way. I used to draw with him when I was your age. He's a tattoo artist and you have to be able to draw if you do that."

Abel still didn't look too convinced. He squinted at her. "Well…"

"Go play with your brother," Gemma interjected, nudging him out of the chair and sliding into it herself.

He sighed in defeat, collected his sketch pad, and shuffled off with a ", Yes, Gramma."

"See?" the Queen twitched her a grin around her cigarette. "You gotta be forceful with your kids. Don't let 'em run all over you."

Ava frowned, the obvious use of _your kids _hitting a little too close to home in light of recent events. "Yeah, well," she twisted in her chair so she faced the table and spread her hands over top of it. "Lucky for me I'm not a mom."

Maggie gave a little nod as she settled into the chair across from her.

"Oh," Gemma had that amused, cooing quality to her voice. "Don't go hatin' on kids, _Old Lady_. Before long, you'll have four or five little brown ballerina babies runnin' around here, all mean and pretty."

"No!" Ava said too loudly. She drew the looks of the Winston kids and Lyla, Tara over at the bar. Abel glanced up from where he'd been pestering Johnny in his play pen. Maggie leaned back a bit in her chair and Gemma snorted.

"I just…" Ava shook her head and waited until the others appeared to no longer be listening. Her voice dropped below the low rumble of the stereo system. "I don't want kids, okay?"

Maggie almost looked hurt across the table and she sighed. "Mom, you know him, and I'm, well, look at me. A few weeks ago you wanted to kill him and now you want grandkids?"

Maggie shrugged, but her frown was sad. "_No_. But…if it happened…you won't find me complaining. Your father…"

Gemma chuckled.

Maggie grinned. "Prep the crash cart now."

Ava couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Happy breaking that kind of news to Chibs. It was ten different kinds of strange. Her chuckle caught in her throat though when the chapel doors opened and Tux emerged. He didn't look at any of them and headed down the back hall; the top rocker and center patches on his cut so new they almost seemed to shine in the light. He returned a few minutes later with a bulging, clinking duffel bag that no doubt contained guns and Ava was reminded that this wasn't a social call. They were on lockdown and the boys were about to be in very real danger. It was a sobering thought.

Clay and Piney had been over on the sofa, pointedly not contributing to all the female chatter, and Clay made a disgusted sound at the sudden silence. "Aw…it'll be fine," he muttered.

"Yeah," Gemma snorted. "And we all know how things usually turn out when you say it'll be _fine_."

As if on cue, the boys came filing out of the chapel, each stowing or toting a weapon of some kind. Ava sat up straighter in her chair, noticing the others do so as well. Her eyes automatically locked onto Hap and she saw that not only were his twin S&W .45s in place – the silver butt of each peeking out from the chest holster he usually wore under his cut – but that he carried a combat shotgun as well. His eyes found hers for a moment and he winked, then went to an empty table and laid down his gun.

Chibs came over and laid his MAC-10 in front of Maggie while he pulled on a sweatshirt. They were talking and Gemma was watching Jax and Tara do something similar over at the bar. Ava noticed Koz and Glen, both of whom gave her weird little smiles and nods, but she didn't have the urge to rush across the room and hug them. The guys were heading out for battle and were kissing off their Old Ladies and if she was going to be one of those, she wanted to say goodbye to her man, and damn her parents if they thought otherwise.

She shoved up from her chair and turned around, intent to go over to the other table and see how well Hap could play this relationship thing, and nearly ran into him. He had shrugged into a sweatshirt that was unzipped, his guns still visible, the shotgun strapped to his back. His face had that intensely focused look; like he was turned on or about to go to work – hell, maybe they were both the same to him. But he softened, just a bit, when she faced him, and he grinned. God, she had no idea how someone who'd smoked his voice into that condition had such white teeth.

"What? You think I'd just leave?"

Ava wasn't sure how many times that crippling rush of jubilant emotions was going to go sweeping through her, but she felt it again as she stood up on her toes to hug him. She didn't linger, she knew he wouldn't want that in front of all his brothers. "Please be careful," she whispered, and let go with one fast squeeze.

To her shock, he caught the back of her head with a hand and kissed her, square on the lips, for the whole clubhouse to see. It was over in an instant and Hap patted her on the back and headed for the door, but he'd _kissed _her.

Ava turned around slowly, holding her breath, and met a lot of carefully blank looks, and a scowl from her dad. Chibs gave her a fast peck on the cheek as he walked past and sighed. "You sure picked a keeper, huh luv?" he muttered.

**-O-**

There were a handful of cars scattered across the parking lot of Devon's Pub in Lodi. The Irish haunt had been the long-standing go-to place for all business meetings and, as per usual, there didn't seem enough customers around to keep the place open.

Jax entered with Tig and Opie on either side of him, Bobby a half a step behind. Through the dim interior of the building, he spotted Doyle and one of his guys in a corner table and registered the look of shock on the Irishman's face that he had brought such an entourage. Jax bit back a grin. Wait until he caught wind of the entourage at his safe house.

Opie splintered away from the group and took up post just inside the door with a good view of the table and both exits. At the table, Jax slid in first, then Bobby, and Tig stayed standing.

"S'up?" Jax greeted casually.

Doyle frowned, his pale skin looking sickly under the green neon sign on the wall. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."

He nodded. "Yeah. Well, I had a few business ideas I wanted to run by you."

**-O-**

Across the street and two houses down, the squat little brown ranch was mostly hidden by shrubs that had grown up along the stucco sides to monstrous proportions. Hap could see a bit of angled roofline and a muted glow coming from the window that faced them, but everything else about the Irish safe house was a lump of shadows against a backdrop of low hanging branches and a yard that was more dirt than grass. There was a gray work van parked on the street and a station wagon in the drive.

The five of them crouched hidden in a nappy grove of cypress tress at the edge of someone's yard. All of them wore all black; sweatshirts, gloves, jeans, ski masks, black. In the dark and in disguise, their voices were more distinct.

"Alright, Juicy-boy," Chibs said. The evergreen limbs rustled as he pointed toward the house. "You and the kid go do your thing. And then -," he turned his head and searched for Juice in the dark. "Get set up for the other part, yeah?"

"You got it," Juice's voice had an uncharacteristic hard edge to it. Happy could envision what his game face looked like beneath his mask. The foliage rustled again and the boughs scraped together as Juice and Tux slunk out into the street. They were fast; the slimmer of the two wraiths going for the van and the other disappearing along the shadows of the safe house. Tux was supposed to disable the vehicles and Juice was going to find the electrical box and cut the power.

A loud _click-clack _filled the waiting silence when Koz pumped his shotgun. "You want help with the front door?" he asked.

"Nah," Hap cocked his own gun. "Go with Chibs."

The VP turned, the movement a subtle shift of black on black, but Hap caught the flash of his eyes. He wasn't quite sure yet that Chibs wouldn't challenge him about Ava – his stares weren't exactly friendly – but as of now, she forged a strong common purpose between them. The others were here for the club and to support their brothers, but for him and Chibs, the threat was real and the consequences dire.

"Kid's done," Hap nodded toward the street where Tux was standing right under a streetlamp, flashing them a thumbs up.

"Get down, ya fuckin' idiot," Chibs grumbled.

A moment later, the light in the house's window was extinguished. "Here we go," Koz said, the excitement plain in his voice.

"Aye," Chibs stood. "Make it count, boys."

They slipped out of their cover and made for the house. Hap kept his shotgun down, close to his side so any neighbors wouldn't see it. Thankfully, Juice had cut the power to the street lamp too, and he was veiled in darkness as he rushed the front door. Koz and Chibs went around back and Hap waited the five seconds they'd discussed, giving them time to get into position, then charged the porch.

It was an old house and the hardware on the door was cheap. He brought his gun up as he reared back and kicked the lock out of its fitting, sending the door crashing open with a bang. The house was dark inside and he couldn't tell where the masculine screams came from. In one fast, smooth reach, Hap clicked on the Maglite that was secured to the barrel of his shotgun. He was faced with the back of a plaid, flannel shirt and he fired.

As the gunshot echoed and the Irishman went down, he heard the back door burst open. More shouts, yelling, a definitely Scottish voice telling them to _get the fuck down. _

The Irish moved like rats abandoning a ship, fast and irregular. They shifted in and out of Hap's flashlight beam and then he realized he had one of his black-clad brothers in his sights. He lowered his muzzle and something hard connected with the back of his head.

**-O-**

The little house erupted with noise and Juice tensed where he stood inside the moldy living room of the vacant neighboring house. Most of the houses on this block were empty or were being used to bag and cut , cook and push, so the cops wouldn't get called by some nosy old lady with curlers in her hair. Those who lived in this part of town knew better than to question gunshots and scuffles in the dead of night. But still, the shotgun blasts were bound to draw some attention, as was what he was about to do.

Through a broken window, he had a clean view of the side door of the safe house, all of it clear and green through the night vision scope on his Remington 700. He tucked the butt of the rifle in tighter to his shoulder and readjusted his grip for the hundredth time. He was a good shot – better than Tig the Sgt at Arms had grudgingly admitted once – but the precision didn't make him bloodthirsty. He was sweating under his black getup and the mask was making his face itch.

Something stirred under the carport of the ramshackle little house and he peeled his eyelids all the way back, breath held and waiting. Sure enough, a guy came running out into the yard, plain as day through the scope. Juice tracked him through the crosshairs, weighing his speed against that of the bullet. In a millisecond, he calculated the correct angle. He pulled the trigger back with a smooth crook of his finger and the shot landed on the mark, catching the Irishman in the knee and sending him tumbling to the grass.

Juice whistled and Tux, little former rodeo star that he was, went racing through the yard and was on the guy before he could push himself up, neatly hog-tying his hands behind his back.

Juice resettled and waited for the next one who tried to escape.

**-O-**

Tired of playing nanny with Abel, Ava strolled down the back hall, running her fingers across the worn wood paneling of the walls. Maggie had taken her bag from her earlier and she poked her head through open dorm doors until she found it sitting on top of the bed in Hap's old room.

From all outward appearances, Hap's room still appeared to be his. One of his spare belt buckles, the big round one, was sitting face down on the dresser. An overflowing glass ashtray was on the night stand. The bed was made which she took to mean that he hadn't slept there in some time, but she found a few of his shirts and a pair of jeans in the closet.

It was all a bit surreal she thought as she sank down on the edge of the bed. All her life, she'd been the child. Young enough that he didn't mind her affection, or old enough that it was a wicked secret. And now, with those two simple words, _Old Lady_, she would be elevated to a position that would leave no question as to the kind of relationship they would have. She wondered if Hap even realized that yet, or if his worry had coerced him into saying it. When he returned from whatever they had planned for the Irish, bloody and tired, would he still think it was a good idea?

Or, God, what if he didn't come back? What if this was some cruel twist that when he finally decided he wanted her, he got his ass killed out there? Then what would she do? Did they make a pill for that kind of grief?

She was staring blankly at the open closet and his handful of plain t-shirts when a knock startled her. She twisted around and saw Maggie in the doorway, her arms folded, smiling softly. "Thought I'd find you in here. Too much kid action for one night, huh?"

Ava sighed and nodded as her mother came in and sat beside her. "Yeah."

"You know," Maggie said. "Earlier, I don't want you to think I was pressuring you about grandkids."

Ava hadn't even been thinking about the baby, but the mental image that had become so solid over the past two days jumped to life in her head. She started blinking hard, fighting the burn in her eyes.

"You don't like kids and God knows he isn't father material," Maggie went on. "You guys probably won't…babe? What's wrong?"

Was she…? Ava dabbed at her eyes and her fingers came away wet. Shit, she was crying. Again. Always with the crying. Later, when she was done making sure every inch of Hap was unscathed, she owed him an ass chewing for making her spend the majority of the last year clutching a box of Kleenex.

"Ava," Maggie prodded. She started rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. "You're not…I mean, he didn't…"

"It was so _stupid_!" Ava choked out, hardly recognizing her own voice. "It was just the one time without anything and he…" she realized with a start that even if she and her mother shared everything, Maggie didn't need to know that Hap had yanked her down to the floor by her necklace. "I found out a week ago," she stumbled forward, shaking her head. "And yesterday morning…I mean, shit, I was freaking out because I didn't _want _a baby. I mean, I'm eighteen for Christ's sakes!"

"Ava, baby -,"

"I lost it, Mom. I woke up yesterday and there was blood and I -," she closed her mouth, biting down hard on her lip to keep from sobbing like a dumb bitch.

Maggie's hand stilled on her back and it was painfully silent a moment while she digested the great big, fucked up bundle of shit she'd just been handed. She took a shaky breath. "Does he know?"

"Yeah." Ava shoved off the bed and started pacing, wiping furiously at her eyes. "God, I've got to stop the blubbering. I mean, I did this yesterday, I'm okay." She glanced over at her mother and found Maggie unusually pale. "Damnit, I shouldn't have told you. I didn't -,"

"Sit down," Maggie said. She patted the bed beside her and Ava complied with a sigh. She put an arm around her shoulders. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

Ava nodded.

"I was twenty-two," Maggie went on ", living off a shit salary and hooked up with a damn foreign _Prospect_, and pregnant to boot. But when the doctor told me I should abort you…" Ava glanced sideways and caught her mom's intense stare. "I couldn't imagine anything in the world hurting worse. Don't apologize for crying, baby."

Ava leaned sideways into Maggie's one armed hug and breathed in the comforting smell of her perfume. "Do you think he can really do this?" she asked. "Have an Old Lady? Be with me?"

"With anyone else, I'd say no. But for you, he'd fucking move mountains. He can do it. No doubt."

**-O-**

Hap went down to his knees, white starbursts dancing around in the shadows in front of his eyes. Whatever that asshole had hit him with, it had been heavy as fuck. Even if his head was swimming, he knew he couldn't stay still long, and he ducked and rolled as his assailant fell on him with fists outstretched.

The timing was accidental, but perfect, and Hap caught the goon in the chest with the soles of his boots. He kicked hard and sent him flying off somewhere into the dark.

"Hap!" Koz shouted. "You good, man?"

He twisted around on the floor and found the beam of his flashlight. He snatched up his shotgun and aimed forward, the light swinging around and landing on the Irishman who was coming at him again, a brass lamp held high in one hand. _Fucker. _He pulled the trigger and the recoil pushed him back across the linoleum. The Irishman toppled backward sporting a hole in his torso.

Happy scrambled back to his feet, head still pounding from the blow. "Yeah," he called back. "I'm good."

"We all here, boys?" Chibs asked from somewhere in the shadows.

Hap swung his gun around, the Maglite picking up Koz and Chibs' dark forms and three bodies oozing all over the floor.

"Shit, this is a right mess," the Scot muttered. "C'mon then, let's see what the lads've got."

**-O-**

Juice kept the muzzle of his 700 aimed at the dirt as he paced in front of the three bound, gagged, and bleeding Irishmen. He knew that once the others came out, there would be no chance for redemption, so he'd pushed his Godforsaken ski mask up onto his forehead to catch a little of the night's coolness on his face. None of these guys would live to ID him later.

"We wait?" Tux asked. He stood off to the side, hands on his hips, breathing hard from his efforts. Through his scope, Juice had seen the youngest club member come to life as he relived his old rodeo bulldogging days. It had almost been disturbing to see the gusto with which he leapt onto the fallen thugs.

"Yeah," Juice flashed him a scowl that was probably unseen in the dark. "We wait."

**-O-**

"Are there anymore guns?" Chibs asked for the fifth time.

Happy stared down at the Irishman with a missing kneecap and his fingers lightly caressed the trigger of his .45. "We got six crates," he reminded Chibs. "If there are more, he ain't gonna tell us."

Chibs frowned, but their bound captive chuckled. "The fuck you laughin' at?" Chibs kicked him in the ribs, earning a strangled wheeze.

"Yo," Koz called from the edge of the yard. "Truck's here."

That would mean that Mayday and Luther had arrived to cart off the bodies and Wizard would be along any moment with the van to pick them up. Juice and Tux were carrying the gun crates toward the shadowy drive and the house was doused with Kerosene. Hap knew it was only a matter of time before flashing lights and sirens descended upon them, and Chibs seemed intent on working these guys over.

"I ain't tellin' you shit," the Irish bastard spat blood at them.

Chibs puffed up and Hap knew he was about to unload with another of those _leave our women alone _rants, so he beat him to the punch. He put two neat rounds in the guy's forehead and he went still on the grass. Chibs gave him a perturbed look.

Hap shrugged. "Can't hurt the girls if they're dead. We gotta get outta here, bro."

"Aye," Chibs sighed, but nodded.

_Bang! Bang!_

Happy took out the other two without blinking and reached down to grab one by the ankles. Chibs picked up his duct taped wrists and together they lifted him and headed for the truck. Their eyes met briefly in the tail lights of the old Dodge and Chibs nodded in grim satisfaction.

Happy had the go ahead. He'd proved himself and Ava was his. No contest. He saw her elated, smiling face in his mind as they went back for the next body, her look of shocked joy when he'd kissed her at the clubhouse. There was no guilt for what he'd done tonight, nor would there ever be. Ava wasn't a separate part of his life; she was right in the middle of it, and everything he did kept her safe and kept her his. As he lifted the ankles of the next dead Irishman, he started to whistle.

**TBC**


	31. Chapter 31

**AN: This lockdown scenario is going to last another few chapters because I'm way too invested in this story to leave anything out at this point. Originally, this story was going to end with Ava falling for someone at school and realizing that Hap will always be there for her, but that they can't be together. And around chapter eight I realized I was never going to be able to do that. That heart my mother thinks I don't have kicked in and I just couldn't do that to them. So...yes. I'm a sap. Which I'm hoping everyone will like...?**

**...**

Jax watched Doyle and his three guys leave the bar, saw the gloved arm reach out of the shadows, the silenced nine mil lining up with the back of one goon's head. The gun went off with a quiet sound and then Tig was stepping out of the shadow, striding over the falling body of his first target and taking out the next.

Doyle and the remaining guy dove towards the relative cover of the van where Jax, Opie and Bobby were hiding. Tig joined them and they hauled the two Irishmen around the van and into an empty parking place.

Jax took Doyle by the front of his jacket and slammed him back against the side of a truck, the prick's head colliding hard with the window. "You think we're gonna let you pull this shit anymore?" he snarled. "Threatenin' this club and our families? Sick assholes."

"Don't!" Doyle struggled and Opie appeared at Jax's side, helping pin the smaller man back against the vehicle. "Shit…it's Jimmy! You know that! Wasn't my idea!"

Jax shoved back and left Doyle to his friend, sparing a look at the other shithead who was held between Tig and Bobby. Jax pulled his Glock and set the muzzle against the sweaty forehead of the henchman, eyes trained on Doyle. "Were you gonna move on my cousins? My son?" he asked with barely contained calm.

Doyle struggled against Ope and earned an elbow to the face. Blood came spurting out of his nose, coursing down over his lips and chin, getting on the sleeve of Opie's leather jacket. "Jaysus Christ!" he let his head slump back, the blood still flowing.

Jax clicked the safety off his nine. "Were you? Answer me, goddamnit!"

"Aye," Doyle sputtered. "Flynn was goin' to Sacramento tomorrow. Wait, Jackson -,"

Jax swung the gun around and popped Doyle, right in the neck. The bullet killed him instantly and crashed through the window of the truck. Shards of glass rained down on the pavement. Opie let go and Doyle flopped lifeless to the ground, the bones in his face crunching when he hit the blacktop.

Jax was still a moment, breathing hard, waiting for the guilt to come; he didn't have too many names on his hit list. But it never came. He knew, without a doubt this time, that these shitheads needed to be taken out.

Calmly, he swung the gun around so that it was aimed at the other guy again. The blond Irishman struggled against his captors. "Christ, no! Don't -,"

"Shut up."

He fell silent.

"You go back home," Jax said levelly ", and you tell Jimmy that if he wants to fight, he can come out and get dirty with the rest of us. You come after our kids…our women…we'll fuckin' end all of you. You're at war with the Sons."

The guy was oily with nervous sweat, dark patches creeping across his shirt, and he nodded vigorously at Jax's warning. The President nodded to his brothers and they released the Irishman. He took off in a flurry of flapping limbs and heavy footfalls, not sparing so much as one look back at his dead boss.

Jax glanced over at Doyle and sighed.

"You did good, kid," someone said, and he snapped his head up, surprised to see that it was Tig who'd spoken. The Sgt at Arms nodded. "Good job."

**-O-**

As the van pulled up to the clubhouse, Hap realized that he was damn tired. His clothes reeked of burned drywall and he had blood all over his sweatshirt. He was in the back with Juice, Koz and the guns and he jumped down to the pavement the moment the back doors were pulled open. Tig greeted them all with a wide grin. "How'd it go?"

Hap felt his own smile form. "Good, bro," he cracked his neck. "Real good."

Someone clapped him on the shoulder and he turned, expecting it to be Koz, only to find Chibs.

The Scot spared him a look, squeezed his shoulder, and then headed to where Jax stood just outside the clubhouse door.

"He okay?" Tig asked, nodding after Chibs as he walked away.

"I ain't his favorite person in the world, but he's cool. What happened with Doyle?"

Tig barked out one of his maniacal laughs. "Well done and extra crispy by now. Jax left one alive, but that red-headed asshole's toast…literally."

Hap nodded. It had been a successful night. War had most definitely been declared, but for tonight, all was quiet on the home front. He knocked Tig lightly on the arm and headed for the clubhouse. "Tell Jax I'll talk to him tomorrow. I'm gonna crash."

**-O-**

It was late when the boys came trudging in, tired and smeared with dirt, but Clay was still awake on one of the sofas. Everyone headed down the hall, grunting about showers and sleep, but Jax lingered, taking a seat across from his stepfather.

He had approached Clay before, months ago, about the Irish deal, and the former President wasn't surprised by Jax's bloodshot eyes and thoughtful frown. "If it makes you feel any better, you did the right thing tonight."

Jax snorted. "Yeah. That's what Tig said."

"I mean it," Clay tilted his head for emphasis. "Hell…I shoulda taken them out years ago. It's just been convenient and…" he sighed. "The club can bounce back from this. But Abel, the girls, you don't bounce back from that shit."

He watched Jax nod, saw the relief run across his face. His shoulders sagged a bit. Gemma had been right; he _had _come back to him. And he'd even been leaning on Tig harder than Clay had thought would ever happen. "C'mon," he stood with a wince. "We can talk about this in the daylight."

**-O-**

Ava couldn't remember when or how she'd fallen asleep. She'd sworn that she would stay up, biting her nails until Hap returned. Last she remembered, she had been on the sofa, a snoring Abel propped up beside her. But now she was warm, sleepy and comfortable, and someone was rubbing her back in long, smooth strokes that made her want to arch her spine up like a cat.

She pushed her hands against the – soft, smooth fabric under her skin – bed, yeah, someone had put her in a bed, and moved back into the touch. The fingers were calloused and the rough friction gave her goose bumps. Someone chuckled, deep-throated and raspy…

Happy was home.

She was fully awake in an instant and rolled over so that she faced him. The room was dark but he'd left the bathroom light on and she could see him propped up on one arm, the hand that had been under her shirt now on her hip. It was too dark to tell if he was bleeding.

"Oh, God…are you okay?" her voice was thick. Damn, how long had she been asleep?

In answer, he pushed her back onto the bed, settling over her braced on his elbows, and kissed her hard. Ava flattened her palms over his chest, delighted to find him shirtless and all those planes and ridges of muscle bare to her hands. She traced the tats she knew so well she didn't have to see them to follow the lines anymore, and felt his arms slide beneath her. Hap sat up, pulling her with him.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked again, when their lips came apart. His face looked sinister with shadows playing across it, but he was giving her a tired half smile and for a moment, it was amazing to her that anyone was afraid of him. She brushed her thumb along his jaw, his dark stubble rough on her skin. There was the faintest whiff of wood smoke swirling around him.

"Yeah." His arm was iron tight around her waist and his other hand tangled up in her hair in that way that promised of all sorts of things to follow between the sheets. Ava leaned down at his urging, expecting his mouth to crush hers, and was instead surprised by the gentle, thorough caress of his kiss. His lips captured hers again and again, letting her breathe between, didn't rush. Her quivering insides melted as she settled against him, her emotions and not just her body getting pulled into this…dance. It was a dance. Graceful, well-measured; like he had all the time in the world and they weren't pawing at each other during a stolen moment alone outside Gemma's house.

It was so perfect that she hated to destroy the moment, but Ava pushed back, her whole body coursing with electricity. "I didn't know…you could do that," she admitted.

Hap snorted. "'Course I can."

But it was like he knew that this was what she needed. After that fucked up night a month ago, after the baby, she needed to not just know, but feel what he'd told her. That he loved her. Dangerously close to swooning, almost feverish with needing to kiss him again, she circled her arms around his neck and leaned in close, until their noses almost touched.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Ava asked. "An Old Lady? Because if you change your mind…Hap, I can't live through that. Not after -,"

He kissed her again and pulled her in tight, her breasts pressed flat against his chest. When his lips left hers, they found her throat and she felt her head roll back automatically. "I'm not goin' anywhere," he said against her skin and the vibration of his voice echoed inside her windpipe. "And I ain't changin' my mind, so get over it."

**-O-**

Something about going out and playing the conquering hero ignited a primal urge to affirm one's bravery by going home and fucking your woman with animal ferocity. Finding Ava in his bed asleep had nearly led to him rousing her with a rough shake and ripping her leggings off.

But she'd looked really sweet and really young on top of the blankets, and he'd reminded himself of the previous night. It felt like weeks ago when he'd crawled back into her bed after she'd dropped the baby bomb on him. And that morning's conversation was already a distant memory. But he'd reminded himself that tonight was important for her, for them really, and if he fucked this up, the emotional damage to Ava would be worse than what it already was.

And, surprise surprise, it was nice to go a little slower and have the time to watch her body come alive. Hap pulled her to him as he lay down so that she ended up straddling him. He wasn't going to be able to leave her on top for long, but he knew she liked to go exploring.

As she leaned forward and stretched out on top of him like some kind of feline, he pulled her shirt off, and she ducked out of it gracefully. Her bra was purple. Goddamn…he liked her in purple. Purple and blue. He'd have to incorporate some of both when he finally inked her with a great big fucking brand that could be seen via satellite.

Her hair slid off her shoulders and brushed across his chest. Ava tucked it behind her ears, but it was so long it still tickled him. She glanced up at him with tilted head and lowered lashes, asking before she did anything. Seeking permission was part inexperience and uncertainty, but part MC etiquette she'd learned through osmosis apparently.

"Whatcha want, baby?" he asked and she smiled, lips curling impishly, dimples flashing.

When her lips hit his chest with the first teasing, butterfly kiss, it was all he could do not to shove her down to the bulge in his jeans. Instead, he played with her bra straps while she kissed and licked her way across his torso with almost painful slowness. He knew she loved his tats. And he had plenty of time for all the shit he wanted to do to her later. He could let her have this now.

**-O-**

Ava loved his body; the feel of his skin, the hard expanse of muscle beneath. And all the ink. She loved his tattoos. As she slid down between his legs, she could feel how hard he was against her breasts, knew by the tense way he held her shoulders that being still was a struggle, but he let her keep going.

She laid an open-mouth kiss over one of his smiley face tats and traced the simple little design with the very tip of her tongue. Those were her favorites; those were the ones he'd earned protecting the club. His abs clenched under her lips and she smiled, thrilled to get that kind of reaction out of someone with his experience. She sucked at his skin, wanting to leave a dark mark, and moved a hand over his cock. She stroked him through his jeans until his hips flexed and his hands yanked her up by the arms.

Ava's laugh was more of a surprised squeal, but she relished his strength as he easily flipped her onto her back. She lifted her hips when his hands went down the back of her leggings. His palms were rough on her ass as he peeled the light gray fabric down her hips.

"I was tryin' to be a gentleman," he mock grumbled, smiling. "But now you're gonna get it."

**-O-**

Chibs hadn't been able to sleep well and now, as he poured his second cup of coffee at seven a.m., he decided he didn't want to delay his conversation with Ava for later. The rest of the guys would be up soon and the girls would come in to fix breakfast and it would jut be a big mess. Plus, he'd spent most of his restless night straining to hear through the walls, listening for and yet not wanting to hear anything from his daughter. With all of them under the same roof, it had been disconcerting to think that she was off in one of the rooms with Happy. Seeing her with a man, _that man _no less, just reminded him how young and unready for all of this she was.

He went quietly down the back hall, his boots and the quiet jangle of his wallet chain the only sounds. When he reached Hap's door, he found it unlocked and turned the knob slowly, holding his breath against whatever ungodly sight awaited him on the other side. He swore, if that bastard had his girl tied up or something…

Happy was naked and face down on top of the covers, dead asleep. Beside him, close enough to be considered cuddling, Ava lie on her back, the sheet pulled up over the tops of her breasts, thank the Lord. Her hair was a dark mess across the pillow and her head was turned towards the killer, seeking him out even in sleep. One of Hap's tattooed arms lay across her stomach. Possessive. Protective. She looked peaceful, the previous night's makeup just a smudged shadow of blush and eyeliner, but her face was so relaxed, her breaths even and deep under Happy's arm.

Chibs didn't know how to make any sense of the dismay and relief he felt all at once. Ava wasn't a little girl anymore. She was _so young_, but here she was in bed with the club's hit man, all naked and shit. Maggie liked sex, a lot, so he wasn't sure why he'd thought her daughter would be some chaste little school girl, but it was something he'd always hoped for. Here she was with Happy and she'd chosen him, not her father, to be the main man in her life. Chibs wondered if a daughter's innocence wasn't more important to her dad than it was to her.

But the reality of what Maggie had been trying to tell him landed full force like a punch to the gut as he stood awkward and creepy in the open doorway. Happy was the same guy he'd always been – he hadn't turned over a new leaf or had his soul saved by a woman. Ava was factored into his life like just another number in the equation, and the man who had taken out five Irishmen on his own, was the same man who let an eighteen-year-old girl snuggle up to him when no one else could. Ava had found her safe spot…and Chibs needed to let her have it.

He crossed slowly to the bed, half afraid Happy would wake with a start and pull a gun out from under his pillow. He reached out hesitantly and brushed a strand of hair off Ava's forehead. She stirred at the touch, and started to roll towards Hap, thinking it had been him. She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _love you_.

"Ava," Chibs said, voice all gravel.

Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head back towards him. "Dad?" She blinked hard, started to sit up, realized where she was and who she was with, and clutched at the sheet that covered her. "Shit…I didn't, Dad, hold on."

"You're fine," he said with a sigh. "I wanna talk to you. Meet me out front in five, yeah?" He walked away before she could respond and he heard Hap wake with a groan of mattress springs and a string of curses. As he slipped through the door, he heard the quiet, unmistakable sound of a kiss as Ava reassured him.

**-O-**

The clubhouse was quiet, the occasional snort or snore coming from one of the Tacoma guys out in the common room as Ava poured coffee. She was barefoot and idly wondered if it was possible to catch Hepatitis through the soles of her feet, but had pulled on her leggings from the day before and one of Hap's shirts from the closet. Any worries she had about the conversation with her dad were overshadowed by the horror that he'd come in the room and seen them in bed. It just wasn't right.

She tip-toed across the sticky floorboards to the door, wanting to laugh at the terribly uncomfortable position that Koz had slumped into on the sofa. Outside, she found Chibs sitting on the top of a picnic table with a cigarette. It was cold, the temperature of the pavement biting into her feet, and she wished she'd grabbed socks.

"Hi, Dad," she offered quietly, climbing up beside him.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said with a sigh.

Ava wondered for a moment if Maggie had told him about her miscarriage and fear did what caffeine couldn't. She sat up straighter. "Did you -,"

"Everythin's fine, darlin'," he interrupted. "It's just…" he glanced at her for the first time and Ava thought he looked _tired. _Bone deep weary. "It's hard watchin' your girl grow up. And that's nobody's fault, it's just me tryin' to deal. I'll get there, but it's gonna take time, sweetheart."

She exhaled with relief. If he'd known about her brief pregnancy, he couldn't be _tryin' to deal _at the moment. "I know," she said, unsure of what he was getting at.

"Happy's my brother," he continued. "I guess I couldn't ask for better than that, can I?"

"I love him."

"Aye. I know you do." He took a long drag on his smoke before dropping it to the pavement. "That's no excuse though. He has to respect you. If he wants you as his Ol' Lady, he has to treat you right."

Ava nearly smiled. She'd been treated _very right _the night before. "He will."

Chibs didn't seem to be listening, staring off across the parking lot. "When you belong to someone, you stand by him. Whatever's goin' on in the club, you support his side, whatever it is."

She realized, with a start, that this was her initiation speech. This was him telling her what Hap's brothers would expect out of her as an Old Lady. It felt rare and secretive, and she scooted to the edge of the table, listening intently.

"Ol' Ladies don't get fucked out in the open in front of everyone, but you've seen your mother, you don't let sweetbutts get away with shit. You'll have the protection and respect of every man in that clubhouse so long as you're loyal to Happy."

He talked until the sun was well above the horizon and by the end, Ava felt the weight of what she'd taken on settling over her shoulders. She knew though, that because it was Hap, it wouldn't feel like a burden at all.

**-O-**

Ava was quiet, almost as quiet as him, but Hap could still hear her come back into the room. That had been ballsy of Chibs, coming in his damn dorm room after the girl. And now that he was awake, Hap's head hurt like a bitch where he'd been hit last night. He'd found some aspirin in the bathroom medicine cabinet and had crawled under the covers again, tired, sore, and intending to sleep until noon.

He heard the gentle rustle of clothes coming off and the sheets flapped before Ava slid in next to him. Her skin was cool to the touch – she'd been outside obviously – her feet like little ice blocks when she wedged them between his legs.

"Shit," he muttered. He was on his stomach and curled an arm around her, half hauling her under him. "Where'd you go?"

She shivered and buried her face in his shoulder gratefully. "Coffee with Dad." She yawned. "Don't let me fall asleep. I gotta get up and help Mom with breakfast later."

He trailed his hand down her back to her ass, pleased to find that she'd stripped completely. "I think I can keep you awake."

**TBC**


	32. Chapter 32

**AN: This is a bit of filler, needless smut, and the last of the angst for awhile. Next chap will be more IRA stuff and target practice with Juicy-boy. Time for Ava to toughen up.**

…

"Sleeves, baby," Gemma reminded, coming up behind Ava and tugging the sleeves of her H-D thermal knit up her arms. It was too late, though. She already had a splash of grease on one black cuff.

"Oh, damn," Ava muttered, lifting her left arm up, spatula flinging grease across the stainless backsplash. "Shit….I didn't mean…"

"Bacon's burning!" Maggie appeared at her side with a potholder and pulled the skillet she'd been working off the burner. For the second time that morning, thick smoke billowed up from Ava's attempt at cooking.

"Fuck it." She slammed the spatula down on the counter and stepped clear, arms folded. She watched Lyla come help her mother and scowled, more at herself than anyone else.

"You gotta quit burnin' shit, honey," Gemma chided gently beside her.

"I can't cook, Gem. End of story. I can barely work the damn microwave."

"Well, don't you think that's something you ought to learn?" Ava gave her a questioning look and the Queen lifted her brows. "Kinda comes with the territory."

Ava grimaced when she realized that, yes, all good Old Ladies cooked for their men. Her morning had been going so well, so nice and naked with Hap, and then Maggie had come banging on the door. She had realized that she'd left her shampoo in Sacramento, Hap of course didn't have any, and she'd had to go hunting for some. The bottle of strawberry Suave had long blond hairs stuck in the crust under the cap that she was pretty sure belonged to a Crow Eater.

Then she'd gotten weepy just looking at Johnny and had spent ten minutes holding a cold compress over her eyes in the hopes that no one would notice she had been crying. Cooking was a disaster and everyone seemed to think that she had awakened with her Old Lady switch flipped and that she'd be domestic and industrious. Couple that stress with the realization that she had missed a paper deadline that morning in her philosophy class and was now officially failing all of her classes, and she was approaching a meltdown.

"Hey," Gemma laid a hand on her shoulder. "Go sit down before you _fall down_."

Relieved, Ava nodded and stepped out of the kitchen. The guys were all spread out across the sofas in the common room and she took shelter in the hall, leaning back against the paneling and rubbing at the headache that was blossoming behind hr temples. Now wasn't the time to burden anyone with her personal bullshit, but the truth about school would have to come out. And she was going to have to buck up over this baby thing.

Footsteps snagged her attention and she glanced up to see Tara coming towards her, Johnny on her hip. The doc's face immediately creased with worry when she saw Ava holding her head. "You okay?"

Ava felt a little jolt of déjà vu, the current scene much like the one last Christmas when Tara had found her in one of Gemma's spare bedrooms. _"If you ever want to talk…" _She hadn't thought she'd take the older woman up on her offer, but at the moment, Tara seemed to have the glow of a savior all around her. Tara couldn't cook worth a shit either. Tara had gone to _college_.

"Actually," she asked hesitantly. "Do you think, maybe, we could talk?"

**-O-**

"You look like shit, Prez," Chibs said, kicking at Tux's feet beside him.

The youngest member obediently vacated his seat and went in search of a wooden chair as Jax eased down into his place. Across from him on the other sofa, Hap could see the dark rings under Jax's eyes. They all had them, actually. _Everybody _looked like shit.

"Baby wouldn't sleep," he grumbled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"I know," Tig pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could hear the little fucker."

Jax scowled at him, but obviously lacked the motivation to get up and do anything about it. Hap obliged and socked Tig in the arm.

"You're a fucker too," the Sgt at Arms grumbled.

"What's the game plan, kids?" Clay asked, which elicited several tired groans.

"We're expecting a call," Jax said, quiet enough so the women wouldn't overhear. "Once news gets back to Jimmy, I assume we're in for an ass-chewin'."

"Asshole can come here and I'll show _him _an ass-chewin'," Chibs said with a snarl.

**-O-**

At the same picnic table where she and Chibs had spoken, Ava told Tara about all her worries regarding school. Her tumultuous relationship with Happy had left her strung out, fatigued, and not at all productive. She'd missed days at a time, hiding under her covers, had been too nervous to show her face anywhere near poor Derek for awhile. She wasn't preppy enough, hip enough, or weird enough to find a real place anywhere on campus. Caroline had been distant. And now, her grades were in the shitter because of it.

Tara sat bouncing a gurgling Johnny on her knee for a moment, lips pursed in thought. "You've probably missed the withdrawal date, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Ava said glumly. "It was in October. Maybe…shit, maybe I should just drop out."

"No," Tara shook her head. "You don't have to go there yet."

"Then…what?"

"Take the rest of this semester off."

"Really?"

"Yeah. When this," she waved her hand around in the air ", blows over, go talk to your advisor and see if you can withdraw failing from all your classes. It won't look good on your transcript, but if your grades are as bad as you think, you won't be able to pull them up before the end of the semester anyway." She nodded, more enthused with her idea. "Then it won't matter. Take off the next couple of months, figure out where you want to be." She arched her brows. "Spend some time with Happy away from your parents. And then start fresh in January."

Ava leaned back against the edge of the table, letting the doc's wisdom soak in. "I can do that?"

"Ava, have you talked to an advisor at all? Ever?"

"At orientation, but not since," she admitted. "I just looked in the catalogue at what I needed to take and just signed up."

Tara sighed as she fiddled with one of Johnny's shoes that was trying to work its way off. "Advisors are your friends," she said as if to a child.

Ava sighed too. "Well, authority figures and I don't really get along."

The doc turned towards her, frowning darkly like when she was pissed at Jax, but seemed to catch herself. Her face softened marginally, her eyes widened. "You're _smart. _I know you're proud of your…_biker heritage_…but it's okay to be smart too. If you're gonna go to college, you need to commit to it."

Ava tried not to, but she made a face. Her own mother hadn't been this responsible about her going to school, why did Tara always have to be so _logical_? "I know," she muttered.

"I think," she continued, more gently this time ", that if you didn't have all the distractions and you really focused, you'd do well. What are you trying to major in?"

"Journalism…but one of my profs thought I should lean more towards a B.A. in English…but I'm kinda missing my art. I dunno anymore."

"Well, whatever you decide, I still think starting over in the spring would be a good idea."

"God," Ava wiped her hands down her makeup free face. "Dad's gonna shit. A whole semester's worth of tuition down the drain. And on top of that, Hap wants me to quit working, which," she checked her watch ", seeing as how I have five hours until my shift starts, I'm guessing I'll be fired and it won't matter."

She didn't think she'd sounded that hopeless, but Tara's voice sounded worried. "Ava, you'll be fine, okay? I can help you, see if you're eligible for grants or anything. It won't be that bad. And your dad won't shit."

Ava pulled in a deep breath, not quite understanding why everything wasn't fixed. Happy had finally come to a decision – everything in her world should be right, right? "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not sure why I'm falling apart all of a sudden."

"You'll be fine," Tara said. "You've just got to…think about what's important. And you have a whole clubhouse full of people in there who love you, more than they'll ever love me."

"Tara -," Ava snapped her head around, surprised to see the doc looking a bit forlorn.

She chuckled wryly. "If there's one thing I've learned from this family, it's that you people don't quit. Don't quit school…not yet."

**-O-**

Not quite confident, but feeling a little better about her situation, Ava followed the doc inside, only to have a big paper sack shoved in her arms.

"Take this to the guys at the gate?" Gemma lifted her voice at the end as if it were a question, but it was most definitely a command.

Ava nodded and turned around. So much for this being some down time with her family. The bag was hot to the touch, one corner damp with grease. The women had obviously loaded it down with breakfast wrapped in napkins and…she peeked inside…yep, two lidded, Styrofoam cups of coffee.

Across the lot, propped up against the fence like it was all they could do to stay awake, were the two Tacoma Prospects that Glen and Koz had brought along. She had always seemed to think of Prospects as being young guys, but these were either in their late thirties or early forties, rough and a little disheveled. They dressed like old school guys – their jeans fitted and shirts plain black – like Tig or her dad. They didn't have any of the new generation swag like Jax or Juice.

"Hey, guys," she greeted once in earshot. "The Queen sends breakfast."

The taller of the two guys, the one with the Tom Selleck mustache, pushed off the fence and reached for the bag. "Thanks, darlin'," he said tiredly. The pass-off was clumsy and he didn't wait till she was clear, his fingers grazing the front of her shirt as he took the food from her.

It took Ava a moment to realize that he'd essentially groped her, but when he grinned broadly, she took a fast step back.

"What, you shy?" his friend chuckled.

"No, I'm _off limits_," she snapped, retreating quickly. She heard a whistle or two, some murmurings, as she stormed back to the clubhouse. Really? Did she have to worry about shit within the club now? Unbelievable.

Back in the clubhouse, the boys were heaping their dirty dishes on side tables and watching the TV with listless eyes. She didn't, and wouldn't, know the details, but they were waiting for something, all of them no doubt tired but on edge because of the continued lockdown. Glen was sitting with Hap and Tig, but Koz was over at a table with Juice, cleaning guns. Juice had his rifle disassembled and was taking painful care to scour each and ever inch of steel with rag and bottle brush. Across from him, Koz was squinting down the bore of his shotgun and Ava sidled up next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder as she leaned down to put her mouth beside his ear.

He grinned when he felt her touch. "Well, this is cozy."

Juice was giving them a funny look.

"You need to tell your Prospect to back the fuck up," she whispered, ignoring his remark. "Or Hap's gonna tear his damn head off."

The smirk left his face as he turned to her. "Are you shitting me? Damn, which one?"

"The Ron Jeremy look-a-like."

Koz grimaced and shook his head. "Yeah. I'll take care of it."

She gave his shoulder a squeeze and walked off. Happy was looking at her, had obviously seen the little exchange, and while Koz was one of his closest brothers, he still looked darkly curious. Ava paused, unsure of how to proceed. Had they been alone, she would have immediately gone to him, reassured him. But he was on the sofa with the other guys and, hell, he knew that she and Koz were on friendly terms.

Hap stared at her a long moment and she wondered if he was just as vexed as to the procedure here. Over the years, she had become the club darling, and everyone – except Tig – was sweet and hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. But if she was an Old Lady, did all of that change? Truthfully, Ava wanted to be alone with him; holed up somewhere private for the weekend. But that wasn't going to happen. And right now, sitting on his lap in front of her dad and all the other guys just didn't seem appropriate.

She was thankful when Gemma called her back into the kitchen.

**-O-**

As night began to fall, everyone was thoroughly stir crazy. Ava had been kept busy with the women, but there had been this great big collective breath held by everyone in the clubhouse; she could almost hear the clicking of the timer on the bomb. The boys were waiting, wondering, and it was getting to everyone. Even Abel had been unusually quiet.

Some of the Utah guys had rolled in right at sunset and, fresh, they'd been given the watch posts at the gate and everyone else was now outside, the grill throwing flames, in an effort to ease some of the tension. "Rooster" from Alice in Chains was blasting across the lot, which meant Juice had picked the music. Ava was humming along to herself as she dug through one of the coolers along the side of the clubhouse. It was nice and shadowy, away from the action, and she already been half wondering where Hap had gone off to when she felt a hand on her ass. She grinned, pulled out a beer for each of them, and stood…only it wasn't Happy who'd grabbed her, but the Prospect with the porn star mustache.

Her first instinct was to break one of the beer bottles across his smiling face. But uncertainty stilled her hand. She'd never had this issue with someone associated with the club before – it had always been outsiders.

"I been wantin' to talk to you all night, darlin'," he drawled, leaning a shoulder up against the side of the clubhouse. "You're the only girl they've got in this place."

Ava frowned, thinking she most certainly was not the only girl, but…wait…did he…? Shit, he thought she was a Crow Eater! He hadn't been inside to see any of the day's interactions. He figured the older women and the ones with kids hanging off of them were Old Ladies, but he had no idea who she was.

He took a step forward. "Back off," she growled. Telling her dad or her man that this creep was after her would only result in a fight. So she figured she would go track down Koz. She was turning away from the Prospect when she nearly ran into Happy.

He was, to her shock, smiling. But she quickly realized that this wasn't his laughing-with-his-brothers smile or his you're-my-girl private smile she got every so often. No, this was pure, predatory delight, and the mustached idiot had no idea.

"What's goin' on, man?" Hap asked, his grin widening and making him look downright evil.

Ava took a half step back, out of the line of fire.

"Not much," the Prospect smiled too. "I'm just wonderin' why you guys only got one girl workin' this gig. You go on lockdown, you need some entertainment, right?"

Hap chuckled. "Yeah." When he glanced at Ava, he put on a good show. He leered at her, undressed her with her eyes. She could feel his gaze lingering on her hips where her black, long-sleeved shirt fit over her gray leggings tight as skin, every inch of her body visible under the clinging material. When the Prospect stared, it made her wish she was wearing jeans, but with Hap…it was hot as hell.

"She's nice and young, huh?" Hap asked him, gaze not leaving Ava. "Fresh. Tight."

"Yeah…" but his smile slipped. "Oh. Hey, man, I know I ain't patched. So, yeah, I'll go second."

_Go second? _Did this asshole think they were going to take _turns _with her? Her stomach churned at the thought.

"Tell ya what," Hap still had that nasty grin in place ", you ever get in the ring?"

"Like, to fight? Yeah. All the time."

"We'll go a round, you know, just friendly competition. Winner goes first."

The Prospect nodded stupidly and Ava wasn't sure if she should laugh or go find Jax. Happy was going to kill this poor idiot. Well, he _had _grabbed her ass. Maybe he wasn't so poor after all. She shook her head. No, mindless violence within the club wasn't worth it. The last time Happy had gone in the ring, the consequences had been devastating.

Hap slung an arm across the other guy's shoulders and they headed off for the ring, the killer's fake laughter loud and gruff. _God, he's going to slaughter him _Ava thought as she slipped between bodies. She finally spotted Koz's spiky blond head over the crowd and worked her way to his side.

"Dude," she flicked at his elbow, pulling him out of a conversation with Bobby. "I thought you were going to handle this."

He looked peeved at the interruption until he followed her pointing finger toward the ring. His grin was huge. "Oh yeah, here we go."

She sighed. "Koz…"

"What's the matter, darlin'?" Bobby asked.

"One of my Prospects wanted to hit that," Koz chuckled, elbowing her. "And now Hap's gonna mark his territory."

Bobby sighed.

Alongside the ring, other Sons were starting to realize that a fight was about to be had. Ava's stomach did a little leap when Hap pulled his shirt over his head. She watched, a little surprised, as he leaned over and handed it and his cut to Chibs, leaning in to say something quietly. The VP flicked a look to the Prospect – who was already strutting around the ring, stretching his arms – and nodded, the tiniest of smiles forming.

"Don't worry, kid," Koz slapped her on the back. "He's gonna cream this shithead."

"I know! But, why couldn't you just handle this?"

He gave her a serious look, smile fading. "I _did _handle it. I told Hap."

"But -,"

"Because," he cut her off sternly ", he needs to do this. After that shit with Chibs, he needs to bash _somebody's _head over that."

Ava winced, remembering that God-awful night Koz had been forced to restrain her. Her throat burned with the memory of screaming. She had nearly cried herself into a coma that night.

She glanced over the crowd and saw Hap climbing between the ropes. The overhead light gilded his already tan skin, his tattoos writhing like living things as his muscles stretched and bunched. The play of shadows was fantastic, made his smile look mean, highlighted the definition in his arms and abs. His baggy jeans, as always, rode low on his hips, the white strip of the waistband of his boxers peeking out over top. God, she was going to have to beat so much Crow Eater ass.

"Oh look, fight Queen's already gettin' wound up," Bobby said with a chuckle. He pointed to where Maggie was sitting on top of a picnic table, hands clasped under her chin, clearly excited.

Ava caught her mother's gaze and Maggie beckoned her over with a wave. "C'mon, girl!" she shouted over the building din of noise.

Ava glanced over at Koz and found that his smile had returned full force. "Go," he nudged her forward. "He needs you to root for him."

She doubted he actually _needed _the encouragement, but picked her way over to the table and climbed up beside her mother.

Maggie leaned in close to be heard above the roar of the crowd. "What did that asshole do?" the was an edge of delight to her voice.

"Grabbed my ass," Ava nearly had to shout back.

Maggie gave her a one-armed hug and pointed toward the ring. "You look at that out there," she said as Hap cracked his neck and squared off from the Prospect. "That is _your _man out there and he's fighting for your honor."

A little thrill went through her. _Her _man fighting for _her _honor. Happy had been protecting her for so long that it had started to feel ordinary. Just some impulse. But this…this was defending her as his woman, against a Prospect for the club. She loved him for slinging bullets at the Irish and Mayans and whoever served as the villain of the week. But that was out of club duty. Tonight, as she watched his biceps jump under his tatted up arms, he was standing up for his Old Lady. And that was her. And he was willing to fight people over that.

She smiled until her face hurt.

"You gotta yell real loud," Maggie told her with a laugh. "Trust me, I know these things."

**-O-**

Hap had seen more than his fair share of fights. He enjoyed the physical exertion of it; the bones breaking and blood flying. It was a rush. Going up against another man and coming away the victor made him feel powerful. It was archaic, but true.

Tonight's fight had been different. Tonight he'd been _angry_. Koz had come up to him in the middle of the afternoon and told him that one of the Prospects was interested in Ava, and that since she was his, Hap could make the call on punishment. He'd taken his time, waiting and stewing all afternoon. The guys were stressed and charging across the parking lot after a damn probie hadn't seemed like the best of plans.

But he'd come up and seen that asshole dare to _touch _her. Touch her _ass_. Her youth had shown, the mix of horror and uncertainty plain on her porcelain face. And Hap had nearly unloaded on the guy right there, slammed him up against the wall and beat his head against the cinderblock until blood ran from his ears.

Instead he'd fought. And he'd won. Koz and Glen were at this moment 'disposing' of the asshole. But as he towed Ava down the hall to his room, he was plagued by anxiety. Thinking about that stupid-ass Prospect, about anyone, putting his hands on her, made him crazy. Though it was common knowledge that Old Ladies were never shared, the occasional fool still had to be educated, and Hap should have taken it in stride.

But he kept seeing her face in his mind; the tears in her eyes that very first time, her little pained sound. She was so, so tight. Sometimes he didn't know how he fit. He remembered that first afternoon in her bedroom; the sound of her breathing, the blood on the sheets, the soft, silky white skin of her thighs. His was the only cock that had ever been inside her, his touch the only one she'd known. Everything she knew, he'd taught her. It was like she'd been made for him. And no other man was ever, ever going to get a taste…ever.

"Hap," she didn't protest, just reminded him that she was being hauled along behind him as he pulled her into his room.

He was still shirtless and slick with sweat, had blood on his knuckles, but he couldn't stop. Seeing her cheering him on, hearing it – _"Kick his ass!" _– just had him totally unraveled. He kicked the door shut when she was inside, loved that she yelped when he picked her up by the ass and set her on his dresser, magazines and empty cologne bottles getting shoved to the floor. Damn, she was pretty. All that long, dark hair and dark eyes. Built like a ballet dancer. Shit…when had he gone from loving her as a kid, to fucking _wanting _her, to now thinking she was the sexiest little thing he'd ever seen?

It didn't matter; he was done trying to figure that out. Someone had _touched _her and that motherfucker was going to need a full body cast.

"Hap," he felt her hands on his chest, pushing slightly.

In his frantic haze, he'd worked her shirt up and was fondling her tits roughly, had her perched on the very edge of the dresser and working his belt buckle against her through her leggings, trying to get himself hard.

"Happy," she repeated and he stilled, really focused on her face for the first time. She was smiling up at him softly, her cheeks flushed – the girl loved to be rubbed on – but she was tap dancing her fingers across his pecs, clearly asking him to slow down. "It's okay," she said. She lifted her brows. "I'm fine."

He scowled. When the fuck had she gotten some self control? "Yeah, I know," he growled. He leaned down and kissed before she could respond, plunging his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her until he couldn't breathe, none of that gentle shit like the night before, worked her mouth until she was sagging against him and her head followed the forward and retreat motion of his lips against hers. When he broke away, they were both panting.

"No," she gasped. She flicked her tongue out over her lips. "I meant…no…I meant that…you don't have to worry…about me. I would…never…" her eyes were big and almost black in the shadowy room, pleading with him. She seemed to catch her breath. "I would never choose someone else over you…not ever. You don't have to be jealous…"

Hap kissed her again, more thoroughly, if that was possible. Tasted every inch of the inside of her mouth. "Shit," he rested his forehead against hers. "I know that, baby. But when assholes look at you -," he kissed her nose, her cheek, the edge of her jaw. Other men would want what he had, want to take her from him. Had he heard one of his brothers say that about a woman, he would have laughed. What made one bitch more special than all the others? But now, adrenaline still raging after the fight, he was paranoid beyond belief.

When he kissed her throat the way she liked, he felt the satin of her bra cups against his chest as she arched into him. Her head tilted back and her short nails bit into the skin on his back, right where his reaper was. "Mark me," she breathed, and he felt his cock grow harder, throbbing with his racing pulse. He circled his arms around her, pulled her to him, and bit down on her neck.

Ava gasped. "Make it big," she said, voice a breathy whisper. "So everyone can see it."

**-O-**

"It's bad enough we've got your bloodthirsty ass to worry about, but now you've got the little one doing it too," Gemma said as she climbed into Ava's abandoned seat.

Maggie grinned as she watched Tux mop the blood off the mat in the ring. "Runs in the family I guess."

Gemma snorted. "Yeah. I see her dad's real 'happy' about it all." She motioned with the end of her cigarette towards where Chibs stood talking to Jax.

Maggie hadn't missed the hard, disapproving look he'd shot her way after Ava's little outburst. In the ring, Hap had stalked along one corner like a panther, tilted his head, got that eerie, focused look on his face, and had announced loudly to the audience that they should all ", pay attention and find out what happens when someone puts his hands on my Old Lady". At which point the poor Prospect had realized his mistake, but had stayed to fight anyway. Idiot. It had been over in a matter of seconds, the Prospect not much of an opponent. And Ava, bless her, had yelled above all the cheers for Hap to ", kick his ass".

When it was over, Hap had kicked the unlucky asshole in the ribs, climbed out of the ring, and snatched Ava up, dragging her through the throng of brothers to the clubhouse. Chibs had been sulky ever since. There was no mistaking what Hap's little display had been about. And Maggie, for the first time in a long time, was proud of the killer.

"He'll get better," she told her cousin. "You know how dad's get…it's just her age and him being, well…Happy."

"Match made in heaven," Gemma said sarcastically.

**-O-**

She was so goddamn tight. It was almost painful for him at first, maybe for her too. But Ava's little claws were sunk into the skin at the small of his back and he could feel her breath rushing across his chest. He pushed her thighs further apart, hands clamped down firmly on her creamy skin, and flexed his hips, driving in deeper. Shit, she was _so, so _tight. It was a miracle he hadn't torn her. But the way her walls grabbed at him as he pulled back and then thrust forward again…fuck, they didn't make pussy better than that.

Hap moved a hand to her back and used it to pull her even closer. He worked in and out of her again and she rolled her hips, ground against him, seeking a friction his cock wasn't satisfying.

He had been sweaty and amped up before, but now his skin was on fire, the cords in his neck popping as he increased his pace. He needed it too bad, couldn't keep from revisiting the mark on her neck and biting the bruised flesh again. She moaned at that.

"Jesus, Hap…I just…I need…"

He reached between them as he thrust in even harder. He stroked her and she surged against him, her hands grasping and clawing at his back.

"Yeah." Her head kicked back. "Shit. Yeah. Oh, shit."

He loved that she cursed, that she didn't play all coquettish flirt when the clothes came off. She was still learning, but she wasn't shy with him. She liked to get fucked, liked for him to touch her, and he couldn't get enough of the way she moved into his hand.

But Hap needed to go faster. Needed more leverage. And since climbing up onto the dresser with her wasn't the best idea, he picked her up and managed the two steps back to the bed.

**-O-**

Ava loved him on her like an animal. Watching him pound the shit out of that creepy Prospect, and now looking up at the magnificent, rolling muscles under his skin, the cords popping out along his arms, she thought she'd just combust. The energy was building within her. Her gut tightened and she recognized her climax coming within reach. Each thrust pushed her down into the mattress and branded her as his.

"_Pay attention and find out what happens when someone puts his hands on my Old Lady."_

She lifted her spine off the mattress as he slammed into her, threw her head back and screamed.

**-O-**

_Sam. _That was his name. Same as his daddy. They shared eyes and noses and that wicked twist to their smiles; why not share a name too? Ava felt her heart swell looking at him. She passed her fingers through his short, downy soft black hair. At two, he had a full head of the stuff. And though she was sorely tempted, she couldn't yet bring herself to buzz it down to stubble – that was definitely not a look for a toddler, no matter how badass his father was.

"Who's my boy?" she asked in that sappy, mother tongue she'd always vowed she'd never use. But she couldn't help it because he grinned a mile wide and he was his dad all over, only sweet and cuddly and not opposed to spending hours wrapped up in her arms.

"Me, Mama!" he said, voice thick with saliva and left over baby-speak.

"You wanna go for a walk?" she asked, standing and brushing the dead grass off the seat of her jeans. He nodded vigorously and she took his little hands in hers, pulling him up to a standing position. They set off across the field towards…the clubhouse….yeah, she didn't remember it being in the middle of a meadow, but it was apparently. Whatever.

Sam was a good walker. He liked to hold her hand, but he did okay on his own, had that diaper waddle down pat. They toddled along, Ava savoring every garbled word and every tug on her fingers. He was amazing. Her baby boy.

"Run, Mama!" he squealed, pulling on her.

"No, Sammy," she laughed, tightening her fingers around his little wrist.

But he pulled harder, pulled _hard_. Suddenly it felt like she was wrestling with his father instead of Sam. "Sam -,"

He yanked free and took off, actually running, his short baby legs carrying him fast, way too fast. Toddlers didn't run, toddlers couldn't…oh, God, she was losing him! The grass was tall and he was shooting through it. Ava broke into a jog, and then a sprint, but she couldn't catch him.

"Sam!" Her legs pumped. She was fast when she wanted to be, she had long legs and she was in good shape. But shit, she couldn't catch up! Sam was running away and she couldn't get to him!

"Sam!"

"_SAM!"_

The image dissolved; the field, the clubhouse, her disappearing son, all of it fell away to black. Her head swam and she was hot, too hot. Something was clenched up in her hands.

She sucked in a deep breath and realized, with painful slowness, that it had been a dream, and that she was sitting up in bed, the sweaty sheets balled up in her hands, and that she was sobbing uncontrollably.

A hand pushed the hair off the back of her neck and then closed over her, warm, rough and heavy. There was a soft _click _and then the room was bathed in light. She squinted against the sudden brightness and tried unsuccessfully to stem the flow of her tears.

"Hey," Happy shifted beside her. He pulled a sweaty strand of hair off her cheek. "What happened?"

She swiped fruitlessly at her eyes, not able to get rid of the mental image of her kid. _Their _kid. Sam.

Hap patted at her back a bit awkwardly, unsure of what to do. But she was overheated and knew, without a doubt, that he wouldn't want to hear about what their son looked like in her head. She kicked off the sheets in a rush and went to the bathroom, turning on the tap and leaning down to drink straight from the faucet. Ava braced her elbows on the counter and let her head hang off her shoulders, breathing in shallow gasps.

When she'd calmed a bit, she cupped water in her hands, splashed her face and neck, and turned off the tap. She stood and caught her reflection; the tangled, damp hair, the giant hickey on her neck, the water dripping down her throat. She ran a wet hand down her wet face, not doing any good, and saw Hap standing in the doorway.

"You ain't ever called me that," he said. He folded his arms and braced a shoulder against the jamb, not concerned that both of them were naked.

Ava shook her head. She really didn't want to have to tell him.

Through the mirror, she caught his tired scowl. "Who the hell's Sam?"

Was he kidding? After what had happened just hours earlier, after she'd no doubt rattled the entire clubhouse with her screaming, and he thought Sam was some other dude?

Ava whirled around to face him. "Your son," she bit out, tears starting up again. "Samuel Morales Junior."

"Is…" he frowned. "You mean the…"

"Yes. I had a dream about the baby, okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It just happened and he was so little and I don't know how, but his name was Sam, I just _knew _that. Like I'd named him after you and…" she was staring at her toes and saw his tan feet appear next to hers on the tile. He was leaned back against the counter like she was, close enough that she could feel his arm brushing against hers.

He sighed heavily. "Shit."

"I know," she mumbled, wiping at her face again. "I keep thinking it'll quit bothering me, but it just won't."

"No, I mean…" he sighed again. "I can bash heads all you want." He sounded frustrated. "But I don't know what to do here. How to help you."

Her breath caught in a painful knot in her chest. According to her mother, nothing but time would help her. And all she wanted was for him to hold her and she knew she couldn't ask that. He'd done it once – he wouldn't be able to tolerate that over and over. No way would he want to keep her if she was weepy all the time.

The air stirred as he moved away from her and she closed her eyes. Yep, he'd walked away.

But then she felt his arms go around her back, strong and tight as iron bars, and he pulled her into his chest. It wasn't one of those delicate, let-me-hold-you embraces, but a hard, overwhelming hug like she could expect from one of her parents.

"Oh, Hap, I'm sorry I can't stop crying. I don't mean to."

"You're fine."

**-O-**

It had taken her awhile to settle down and fall back to sleep, half draped over his chest. And now he was the one who couldn't sleep. She'd told him about school and the know-it-all doctor's idea, which, if he admitted it, wasn't a bad one. He didn't know how long they'd be on lockdown, but even afterward, he wasn't sure he would be comfortable taking her back to Sacramento. So waiting until spring was fine by him.

God, she was a mess. He hadn't realized just how much turmoil and pain were swirling around in that pretty little head of hers until now. He had to fix it. He fixed his guns, patched his own bruises, fixed shit for the club…now he had to figure out how to fix his girl.

**TBC**


	33. Chapter 33

**AN: I'm hoping to fit in the "blood, guts, more blood, limbs, etc…" into the next chapter ;) **

…

It was six thirty in the morning and Ava was trying to piece together Tig's mumbled conversation with Happy through the cracked door. Something about 'prepay' and 'Irish' and 'chapel' and Hap had to get up and she didn't want to sleep alone. Her eyes were all fucked up from crying in the middle of the night and she staggered a bit as she made her way down the hall.

Chibs was dressed and bleary-eyed, coming out of the dorm he and Maggie were using, and Ava slipped inside with a sleepy greeting. Her mother was sitting up in bed, actually wearing pajamas, thank God, and flipping through a magazine. Ava was just in one of Hap's shirts and she climbed into the empty side of the bed, snuggling under the covers on her stomach.

"Hi, babe," Maggie lowered her _People _and reached over to brush the hair off her face. "Your boy get called to duty?"

Ava nodded against the pillow.

Maggie's little smile was sympathetic and knowing. "You sleepy…or sad?"

"I had a dream about the baby," she said. "It freaked him out."

Her mom sighed and reached lower, pushing her hair off her neck. Ava felt her fingers on the hickey/bite mark of the century, and waited. "Jesus…is he a pit bull?" She twitched a smile though. "Your dad's gonna see it."

"I want everyone to be able to see it." The bed was warm and she was with her mom and her eyelids started to flag. "Everyone needs to know not to bother me."

"That's what tats are for."

"MmmHmm."

Maggie's hand pulled away and Ava heard her shift around under the sheets. "I know this baby thing is gonna bother you for awhile…but don't let it pull you down. You've finally got the one thing you always wanted. And you're healthy and we're all safe. You've got your education."

"Yeah, Mom, about school…"

**-O-**

Tara was up early, feeding a restless Johnny, when there was a loud knock on the door of the upstairs apartment. She made sure her robe was cinched up tight, and answered it. Chibs still looked half asleep standing out in the hall. He held up a cell phone. "Is he up?"

"No," she stepped aside and let him come staggering in. "What's going on?"

"Business," he said and went over to the bed where Jax still lay asleep on his side. "Jackie-boy," Chibs was loud, even just partially awake, and leaned down to shove the Prez in the shoulder.

Jax grumbled but didn't wake.

"Irish called on the prepay, Jackie-boy. Time to get up."

Tara watched, barely containing her laughter, as the Scotsman climbed into bed beside her husband, threw an arm over him, and started fake snoring. She checked that Johnny was safely locked up in his play pen and that Abel was still asleep, and headed out. As she closed the door, she heard Jax wake up.

"Hey! Goddamn…what the fuck, bro?"

**-O-**

"So, Jimmy's comin' stateside?"

"Threatened to," Tig said with a shrug. "His guy said we'd 'pay' for what happened to Doyle."

"Yeah, well, I talked to McGee," Juice said on an exhale of smoke. He twitched a grin. "And he says Jimmy's crew's about to flip their shit. They got no buyers right now, and his whole US operation just got…well…"

"Fuckin' blown away," Chibs finished.

"He can't have that many guys left," Bobby said. "At this point, what the fuck can he do?"

Hap had listened to the recap of the prepay call and the following discussion with one thought nagging at him. The IRA was not exactly known for walking down the street, guns-a-blazing. Their resistance was more insidious than that, and, he figured their retaliation wouldn't be a full-scale attack on the club. Even if Jimmy caved and backed off, who was to say that an IRA operative wouldn't come sniffing around the club. He knew firsthand that one guy working alone and slinking in the shadows was more of a threat than all-out warfare. Just like Cameron had taken Abel, some Irish bastard could come sneaking in and kill one of their innocents. Damn, now he had one of those to worry about.

"It would only take one guy," he couldn't help but finally speak up at the end of the table. All eyes swept his way. "One guy could take out one woman, or one kid, and hurt all of us."

It was silent a beat, and then Chibs nodded. "He likes to hurt people, Jackie-boy." The light seeping through the cracked blinds highlighted the deep grooves of his scars, adding meaning to his words. "This ain't just about business for Jimmy."

Jax sighed and wiped a hand down the overgrown bristles on his chin. "I don't wanna keep us on lockdown any longer than I have to."

"We've gotta get back to Tacoma," Glen said. "I hate to leave you boys in a bind, but we can't stay."

"McGee's got guys watching Jimmy. If he heads our way, we'll know about it," Juice offered.

"We took out seven guys…are we really sure he's gonna risk more for a hit on one of the girls?" Opie asked.

"I dunno," Jax sighed. The President looked like he'd aged years over the past few weeks. Lack of sleep and too much stress were putting lines on his face. "It don't make sense to stay on lockdown. If Jimmy comes, we'll pull everyone back in. But until we know something, I say we all go the fuck home. All in favor?" He raised a hand and was quickly followed by Tig and Opie. Chibs too.

Happy was strangely reluctant. He sure as hell didn't like when the clubhouse was packed wall-to-wall with all this extended family and children bullshit. But lockdown meant that he didn't have to worry about Ava. Not only was she possibly in danger if the lockdown ended, but she was hanging by a figurative thread as it was. Would she want to go home with her mother? That would be fun, asking Maggie and Chibs if he could spend the night.

Slowly, he raised his hand to signal his favor. He hadn't thought it would be possible to worry about her more than he had when she was a kid, but apparently it was. It was a frightening sensation – thinking that there were things out there lurking, waiting to take her from him. And damn, how well could a slender little thing like that defend herself?

As Jax banged the gavel down, an idea struck him. Ava knew how to operate a gun and he'd shown her a little bit with the knife…but she was far from proficient. He leaned forward and rapped the table, catching Juice's attention before he could stand.

"Hey, you got a sec?"

**November 2010**

The sun bobbed along the horizon, its rays no longer warm, the pale grayness of twilight rolling in across the clearing from the forest, as if the trees produced some sort of fog. The gravel seemed to glow white in the milky light, blackened hunks of wood and countless scattered bits of metal trash like ugly pock marks on the otherwise tidy ground. The charred, hulking wreckage of the Bluebird warehouse loomed at the edge of the trees, becoming more shadowy and ominous as night approached.

It was chilly, verging on cold, and Ava pulled the halves of her denim jacket tightly together. The ride up to the streams on the back of Happy's bike had left her a little weak in the knees and windswept, and her skin already sandblasted by wind, was sensitive to the temperature.

"You know," Tig's voice sounded beside her and she jumped, hating that the Sgt at Arms had gotten the jump on her. "This place is haunted." He chuckled – cackled, rather – God, she hated his laugh.

Ava rolled her eyes and started walking again. She'd paused to toe a chunk of gravel away from an old .308 shell, and had let her guard down just enough to let the big creep get the drop on her. It was no secret that Tig _did not _like her. He'd made it quite clear on several occasions that none of the "snot nosed brats" should spend so much time around the clubhouse.

"I'm serious," he said, following. "See, there were these two wetback hookers…"

She tuned him out and kept up her slow shuffle across the clearing. Bobby and Juice were poking through debris, killing time and looking for a rare, usable find. Her eyes skimmed over them and landed on Happy, where he stood with his profile against the tree line, hands in his pockets. Her gaze followed the familiar path of his face; the hollows under his cheek bones, the edge of his jaw, down his throat, his shoulders, lower. She'd seen him shirtless enough times to know the expansive, masterful mosaic of tattoos that covered his torso. Could recall the sharp, clean cuts of lean muscle that laced his frame. She had never found him attractive because of his look or his style, but the intensity of her feelings about him had led her to crave the sight of him. The loose jeans and that big belt buckle that pulled them low on his hips. The way he held a cigarette. He was the most solid man in her life, and thus her definition of masculinity and sex appeal. No one could touch Happy in her eyes.

His head whipped around at the sound of their approach and she averted her eyes quickly, not wanting him to know she'd been staring. "What kinda shit are you sayin'?" he asked Tig with a smirk.

"I'm scaring your kid shitless."

Hap flicked the briefest of glances her way. He didn't have to actually wink for her to read the message there, and she smiled. "I think I watched every episode of _Tales From the Crypt _with this one. Ghost stories? Nah, man. She don't scare easy."

**November 2013**

The Bluebird site wasn't nearly so otherworldly in the mid afternoon sun. A portion of the wall that still stood had crumbled to ash, by either nature or kids fooling around. Little bits of trash had gathered in low spots that were protected from the wind; beer bottles, magazines, leaves, food wrappers…maybe a used condom or two. There was a blackened spot on the gravel that was circled with larger rocks; the site of the CHS bonfire no doubt. It was maybe fifty-six degrees and Ava zipped her riding jacket, feeling like she'd lived this moment before. She had, actually.

But then she caught a whiff of cigarette smoke mixed with aftershave and motor oil, and smiled. Hap's hand lingered on her ass a moment, his chest pressing into her back, as he kissed her on the temple. She sighed, content almost. That was never going to get old. "Pay attention to him," he instructed as he stepped away. "He's good."

Over in the heart of the wreckage, Juice had turned up an old folding table that had, ironically, been spared from the fire by the collapsed ceiling. The legs weren't substantial, but it would serve its purpose, set up along the section of standing wall. He was at the edge of the forest, stringing up his home made targets. He'd affixed the standard silhouette targets to plywood frames, for sturdiness, and used baling twine to hang them at approximate human heights between the trees.

Ava watched him go back to the table and start pulling guns from the duffel he'd worn slung over his shoulder on the ride up. He laid out multiple pistols, a few long guns, talking to himself as he did so, setting out box after heavy, clinking box of ammo. Ava lingered, feeling a little unsure all of a sudden. She had originally thought that when Hap said "target practice", he had meant just the two of them. She liked Juice – he was one of her favorites – but she didn't know how this was going to work. She glanced over her shoulder and Hap nodded.

"Go on," he urged. He lit a smoke and leaned back against his bike, obviously leaving her to the intelligence officer.

Glancing back, she saw Juice slide a clip into a semi-auto and nod to her. "C'mon, girl. I gotcha all set up."

But why was she still standing there? Hap had brought her out here so the best marksman they had could show her the ropes, and she suddenly wasn't so sure. It wasn't that she was afraid of shooting – you didn't grown up in a gun-running MC and have a fear of firearms – but something kept her rooted in place.

Looking at Juice, she couldn't help but reflect on their stupid little make-out sessions and felt ashamed. It had never meant anything for her, for him either probably, but she wondered now if he'd put his arms around her while she was shooting. Would Hap get suspicious? Would Juice be too friendly? God, she'd die if Happy thought there was so much as a spark between her and another man. Because there wasn't. She had a single-minded focus about romance.

"Ava," Juice called again. He had his shades on, but she knew his eyes were dancing behind the lenses when he smiled at her. He shrugged and gave her such a goofy, platonic grin that she realized he _knew _why she was reluctant. Juice was not half as stupid as everybody liked to think.

The knot in her stomach seemed to loosen. Still, she glanced back at Hap one more time and he waved and scowled at her. Okay, that settled it. He wasn't suspicious and Juice was savvy to her hesitance. This would work.

Ava joined him at the table and leaned forward as if to inspect the guns. Instead, she whispered ", You know if you get too close, he'll decapitate you."

"Um, I was there last night," he said. "Trust me, I know." He handed her a pair of clear plastic safety goggles. "Oh, and by the way…nice hickey."

"Thanks," she smirked, pushing the hulking, nightmarish glasses up her nose. "I think it's effective."

"No shit," he shook his head. "A'ight. This is what you carry, right?" he changed gears quickly, picking up the little .22 revolver she normally carried in the glove box of her truck.

"Yep."

He snorted. "Lame. So lame. We've gotta get you something that packs a bigger punch, but we'll use it to start."

Juice had set up a makeshift firing line with a low hanging limb he'd pulled off a tree and he stood off to the side, not commenting as she stepped up and settled the slim revolver in her hands. Happy and Koz had done this with her a time or two when she still lived in Seattle, and Chibs had taken her out shooting, but she wasn't very sure of herself as she lined up the sights on the first target and squeezed the trigger.

The .22 went off with a _pop _and it had so little recoil that she expected to have landed a fair shot. She lowered the gun, pushed up her glasses, and squinted across the bright expanse of afternoon. "Where'd it hit?" she finally asked when she couldn't find a hole in the paper.

"The tree," Juice said, laughing softly.

"Oh." Her already shaky confidence abandoned ship. She sighed, shoulders sagging. "Well shit."

"Nah, it's cool. I expected that," he assured. Juice took the revolver from her hands to demonstrate. "Look." He choked up a tight hold on the grip of the pistol, until the cords stood out in his arms from the effort. "You look like you're trying to strangle the thing," he said with a smile. "Watch." He fired off a round, that, to her envy, punched through the torso of the target, but not without jacking his arms back. "When you hold it too tight," he explained ", the gun can't move in your hand and your whole hand moves instead. Then your shot goes wild."

"It just…surprises me," she admitted, ashamed. "I know what it sounds like, but it rattles me a bit every time. And then I freak."

He nodded. "I think that's a chick thing."

She frowned, nose crinkling up.

"No, that sounded bad. What I mean is…yeah. Okay. So, when you've got the gun in your hand, it's like, this big, scary, powerful thing, right?"

Ava hated to agree to that. That was such a feeble, damsel in distress thing to say. Afraid? Was she afraid of guns? But she nodded.

But Juice, with that soft understanding look of his, made it hard to find shame in that fact. "That's normal," he said, which helped settle her more. "You've gotta shoot a lot to be comfortable with it. It's like…" his brows pulled together over the rims of his shades as he searched for a metaphor. "It's like being on the bike. Guys get on the first time and all they can think about is how hard it is to steer and balance and change gears and they're so damned worried about the bike, they forget about the road, and then they're eating it." He chuckled and she felt herself do the same.

"Guns are tools," he went on. "You gotta own it. The target," he pointed towards the trio of silhouettes ", that's the important part. The target's what you need to hurt, and the gun lets you do it. That's Jimmy O. This is how you hurt him."

Ava looked between the gun and the target. No one had ever put it to her like that before. She had seen Juice all nerded out at his laptop, figuring trajectory and bullet speed and being so technical about the whole thing it was painful…but this was simple.

"You control the gun."

She nodded.

"Let's try again, 'kay?"

**-O-**

Hap could watch her get better with every shot. She was nodding, eating up everything Juice could tell her about marksmanship, and after she put a neat round through the head of the paper target, he saw her smile like she hadn't in a long time. Like she had done something well and was proud of herself.

The longer he sat, smoking, and observing her training, the angrier he became with Jax. What, like they were just supposed to all go back to life as normal and _hope _an Irish mercenary didn't show up on someone's doorstep? Was he supposed to look at Chibs' face and think nothing bad would happen to Ava if one of those McAssholes was given the chance? He had long suspected, but now he knew that Jax was struggling to find a toehold as President. He liked the kid, he was his brother, but he wasn't Clay. He was so busy thinking about the social ramifications of his beloved "big picture", that he failed to see the bigger picture of the club. SAMCRO was getting lenient with collecting vigs – had businesses doing their own thing in town unchecked. The club flew even lower on the law's radar. If Jax wasn't careful, he'd lose control of Charming. And then where did that leave the other charters? Everything he needed – shelter, camaraderie, sex, love, belonging, shelter – all of it was in the club for Hap. There was no outside world for him.

They should have been halfway to Belfast by now, locked and loaded to take out Jimmy. Hell, why were McGee's guys "watching" him when they could be slitting his goddamn throat? Sitting around and letting the shit come to them was stupid. Hap was again affirmed that his decision to stay Nomad was a smart one. If things got dicey, he could pick up Ava and be gone. No way would he let her wander around like a target.

And now, he smiled to himself with satisfaction as Juice took her .22 and replaced it with a Glock nine. Her cheeks were flushed and she was excited, pleased with what she was learning. She needed to feel like a person again. And nothing put power in your hands like knowing you could take care of yourself. It wasn't much, but it was a start to fixing her. At least he was trying.

**-O-**

"Now, see," Juice fired a quick look over his shoulder to check that Hap was still out of earshot ", your man does this number sometimes," he said with a low chuckle, rotating the 9mm in his hand so the muzzle was sideways.

Ava bit back her own laughter. Yeah, she'd seen that before.

"I know Hap thinks he's a thug, but that gangsta shit is soooo not accurate." He held it upright again. "Yes." Turned it sideways. "No. Yes. No -,"

"Juice, I got it."

Unfazed, he put the Glock in her hands. The nine had much more of a kick to it than her little .22. It was louder too, though Juice had explained it wasn't as powerful as the .45s some of them carried. He'd said she'd get to shoot that too. The shotgun as well. And if she did okay, maybe even his beloved 700. She hadn't thought she would, but she was actually having a blast. She loved Happy so much that she never thought about interacting with him as difficult, but Juice was just so _easy_. His smiles were infectious and even though he was teaching her something, it never felt like being tutored by Jax or her dad. Belittled by Tig. Juice had always treated her like she was smart. She appreciated that beyond words were capable of expressing. And he was a damn good teacher.

They worked for probably another hour, until she figured she probably had permanent ear drum damage. She even had a go at the rifle, though he'd had to help her hold it up snug to her shoulder. That had been weird for a moment, both of them looking to Hap to make sure he was okay with even that much contact. He had scowled, but nodded them on, and Ava was tickled she'd squeezed a few decent rounds out of the big Remington.

"Keep this," Juice said, shoving the Glock across the table towards her as he was packing everything up.

"Really? Is it yours?"

"Nah. Extra stock," he said with a smile, which meant he'd taken it out of an Irish shipment.

She picked up the black matte nine with a smile. She felt a bit like Lara Croft with all this sharpshooting stuff. She knew she would need to keep in practice, but the gun _was _starting to feel more like a tool, just like Juice had said. She didn't flinch now as she passed her hand along the slide. If it was possible, she now had even more respect for what Hap did. His ease and familiarity with the tools of the trade was almost enviable. That he could do what he did in the field, and hold her after a nightmare was astonishing. And she loved him even more for it.

**-O-**

As Ava and Juice walked back toward the bikes, the Glock held loosely and comfortably in her hand, Hap felt this surge of pride. She wasn't Annie Oakley or anything, but his girl was pretty damn good with a gun. Good enough to blow someone away in close range. He liked that she was delicate and feminine, his complete opposite in a lot of ways, but he was immensely pleased the lesson had gone so well. He had counted on she and Juice working well together one dork to another, and he'd been right.

And now she was walking towards him, smiling, her hair up in a ponytail and the huge mark he'd put on her neck plainly visible. He'd wondered if she'd rethink that move in the daylight, try to cover it up. But she'd put her hair back, he had a feeling, for the express purpose of flaunting his mark of ownership. And how hot was that? He was going to have to ink her soon; give her something more permanent.

He was struck by the memory of the last time he'd been up here with her; three years ago when the guys had been drowning in stress and anxious for any sort of distraction. He'd been wandering around the edge of the property, not interested in the little gems Juice and Bobby were finding in the rubble, when he'd felt her arm slip through his.

He had known for some time that her crush was deepening instead of fading, had seen the shy, longing look on her face that she no doubt didn't know how to describe. And knowing that, he'd let her tow him into the woods on the pretense of showing him something. He'd almost kissed her that evening. Had dipped his head and braced a hand on the tree trunk beside her head, almost caved before he'd pushed away, disgusted. So what if he'd done underage girls before? He'd been there when this one was a baby! She was supposed to be like a daughter to him.

And maybe she still was – like a daughter – just a little bit. Maybe that was why fucking her and caring about her had become inseparable. Her grin widened as she drew to a halt in front of him, her eyes dancing.

"Juice said I could keep this," she said, excited, as she stowed the nine in her bag.

She looked a lot better. Smiling. Happy. More of the fearless fifteen-year-old who'd led him into the woods than he'd seen in a long while. "You did real good, sweetheart," he told her and her face lit up, bright as Christmas morning. He was realizing that not only did she sound more like a child when she spoke to him, as if she were unsure, but that the slightest of praise boosted her mood tenfold. Things to file away and remember for later.

It was staggering to think that someone felt that way about him. But in a good way. He wondered if she was thinking about that fall night in 2010. She probably was. Her memory was sharp.

"Hey, thanks man," he told Juice, extending a hand.

"Nah, no sweat," the younger man accepted his shake. "She's a little killing machine, bro," he said with a grin.

Ava glowed at the praise and Hap's mind was made up. He hugged his brother. "We'll catch ya back in a bit."

Juice ducked into the strap of his duffel with a nod and not one stupid question about where they were going…or _not _going as it were. He really wasn't as stupid as he let people think.

When he was gone, the dust kicked up by his bike drifting off into the breeze, Ava turned to him. Her dark brows pulled together. "We're not going with him?"

Hap shook his head and couldn't help but smile. "In a bit. You think we can find that tree again?"

She was still a moment, and then her mouth popped open when she realized what he meant. Her eyes seemed to glitter and for a moment, he thought she'd cry, but she pulled it together. She closed the distance between them, arms circling around his neck. "Absolutely."

**TBC**


	34. Chapter 34

**AN: I lied. Violence next time.**

**...**

It was a slow comedown. Over his inked shoulder, Ava watched the trees sway, colors that didn't belong in the forest flickering across the patches of sun and shadow. Her heartbeat was slowing by increments. The breeze sent ripples of goose flesh across her damp, cooling skin. Hap was recovering too and leaned heavily against her, pinning her back against the tree. She had scratches on her arms and what felt like a monster splinter in her ass…but he'd found the tree.

When he'd mentioned it, leaning back against his bike all casual and nonchalant, Ava had been afraid she'd pass out or burst into tears. He'd brought her out here to the Bluebird site not just for target practice, but for another reason. She always assumed that she was the only one who had these years-old memories swimming around in her head, but Hap hadn't forgotten about the tree. Or the way she'd pleaded with him. He'd asked her to do it again, had wanted her to actually _reenact _that scene from three years ago. And the best part, he'd done it just for her.

Hap didn't try to pull away, but she felt the need to have him closer. His softening cock was still inside her, she had her legs wound tightly around his waist, every deep breath he pulled in pushed back against her chest…but shivering in the aftermath, vulnerable, emotional, and never more convinced that he did in fact care deeply about her, she couldn't get close enough. Ava clutched at his back, cupped the back of his shaved head and tried feebly to hold him to her, not wanting to lose the rush of his breath across her collar bone.

It had to end though. He needed to get back to the club and she had some arrangements to make about pulling out of her classes. God, and where were they even going to go? They would live together, right? That's what happened when a guy took an Old Lady. God, she hoped so. She didn't know – after he'd told her he loved her, after he'd gone and found _their tree _– if she could not live with him. It didn't feel possible.

She hated when he pushed off the tree. She kept her arms and legs wrapped around him as he stepped back. His hands went to her ass, helping to hold her up. "You good?"

Good was an understatement. She was fantastic. "Yeah," she said with a sigh. She loosened her arms and he set her down, caught her when her knees threatened to give out.

Now that she was no longer enraptured by his dark eyes staring down at her and his hands rubbing all over her, she felt a bit ridiculous to be half naked in the middle of the woods; little bits of tree bark embedded in her back. When she looked up at him though, and there were those same eyes and hands on her, it was hard to find any embarrassment about what they'd done.

"Hap," he tilted his head. "Thank you. For this. You have no idea how…" she felt stupid, but said it anyway ", much this means to me."

He twitched her a smirk as he reached to pull up his jeans. "Yeah. I kinda do."

**-O-**

Ava had learned quickly that you didn't grow up in an MC and take good days, and quiet moments for granted. She tried not to dwell on the things that could go wrong, and instead just enjoyed the rumble of the bike, the rush of the wind, and the feel of his body on the ride back into town. She almost hated when they pulled back into T-M and he walked his bike back into place alongside the others. She lingered after the engine shut off, a hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to sit back and signal her to climb off. But he was still. Ava waited. Mouthy bitches were liabilities, not assets in a club.

"Jax took us off lockdown," he finally said. He twisted on the seat so she could see the side of his face. He was scowling. "But we're stayin' at the clubhouse for now."

"Okay." She moved her hand down the back of his cut, digging in with the heel of her hand on the way back up. She thought, but wasn't sure, that he leaned back into the touch. Though new to all this in practice, she was well acquainted with the theory of Old Lady responsibility. She was running without a script, but suddenly, the appropriate words just popped into her head. "Do you need me to do anything?"

The corner of his mouth lifted in an almost smile. "Nah. Not now. I could stand a back rub later, though."

He always made her feel so good, she was anxious to return the favor. She loved the thought of _her _hands smoothing the kinks out of his muscles. And she'd get to touch him, look at his ink; that massive reaper in the middle of his back. She grinned broadly, feeling that childish, giddy little rush in the pit of her stomach again like when he'd mentioned the tree. "Of course. Whatever you want."

He stood, rocking the bike a little, and gave her a curious look as he unsnapped his helmet. Oh shit, had she said something wrong? He liked her to be the submissive one, right? That was the deal with these SOA guys and their women, wasn't it? His frown deepened and her heart sank. She had become this person who depended upon another person for her happiness. And that fact was almost as disturbing as the look he was giving her.

"How'd you get so good at this shit?" he asked, and it took her a moment to realize what he meant.

Her smile returned slowly. "Well, you see, there's this guy."

He snorted as he put his helmet on the handlebars.

"And I think I've about got him figured out."

She could tell he tried not to, but Hap smiled. "Yeah, you keep thinkin' that."

Emboldened by his good mood, Ava decided to broach the subject of her belongings. "Hey, Hap?"

He grunted an inquiry as he beckoned her off the bike.

She left her helmet on the seat and fell into step beside him as they crossed slowly to the clubhouse. "I can handle the school stuff over the phone, but all my shit's in Sacramento. Truck, clothes, laptop. All of it."

"I know," he said. "I'm gonna see if Mayday will head over there with me tomorrow, pick it all up."

"I'll go with you guys and -,"

"Absolutely not," he cut her off, voice low but stern.

Her Scottish blood was rankled at his immediate shut down. She gave him a sideways look, met with his calm, unflinching profile. He'd told her 'no'. End of story in his book. "You can't possibly want to sort and pack my clothes and books. It'll go faster if I'm there."

"I said no, Ava." He added a glare this time, one she returned.

"You'll be with me. What could happen?"

"What…" he startled her with a low growl and snatched hold of her arm, pulling her around to face him. "_What could happen_? Are you shittin' me? Do you think -," he cut himself off with a fierce shake of his head. There was that anger again, that feral, animalistic rage she never saw in him unless it was directed at her.

"Why do you get so pissed at me?" she asked. "You don't do this with anyone but me. Why?"

He released her with a scowl that would have turned a civilian to stone. "You're smart, figure it out," he said darkly, continuing toward the clubhouse.

Ava followed with a frustrated sigh. When they reached the door, she tried again, careful to keep her voice neutral. "Hap -,"

"You're not goin', so leave it alone, goddamnit!" He didn't shout, but his voice echoed as they entered the clubhouse, bouncing off the wooden floors and walls.

Chibs was at the bar, leafing through a bike mag, and turned around on his stool, scowling. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothin'," Hap said flatly, going around the end of the bar and getting a beer out of the cooler. Ava watched, arms folded, as he twisted off the cap and flung it over his shoulder. It pinged and rattled along the floor, just loud enough to be heard over the clomp of his boots as he went down the back hall.

Tig was lounging on one of the sofas and Ava felt his stare. She spared him a fast glance and was uneasy under the scrutiny.

"What's he yellin' about?" Chibs asked, pulling her attention.

She gauged her dad's expression – he was easy to read. They shared eyebrow quirks when they were pissed or hurt, and he was both. Angry at Hap, possibly forever it seemed, and hurt about something that was totally out of his control. Her feelings.

"He's…" she started to explain, but flicked a look to Tig again. The Sgt at Arms was just staring at her. Like he was watching a car crash about to happen. Like he was waiting…for her to make a mistake. "Everything's fine, Dad," she told Chibs with a tight smile. Tig nodded almost imperceptibly; she'd passed the test. But she hated the look on her father's face as she turned around and went back outside.

**-O-**

Hap wasn't truly angry with her. The idol worship of her childhood had morphed into an obedience and eagerness to keep him happy. Both sought after, enviable traits in an Old Lady. But that biology of hers bubbled to the surface here and there. That stubborn streak was what had gotten the girl's mother and cousin in dangerous situations before. Ava was a lot of things, but capable of defending herself wasn't one of them.

He flopped back on the bed, beer resting on his thigh, and reminded himself that today's excursion had been about toughening her up. He should have felt more confident in her abilities now. But though she was better with a gun, he didn't want her to actually be put in that situation. Terrified. Trembling. Struggling for her life.

Fuck him. This felt like Mom all over again. When she'd first been diagnosed. When the doctors had told him all sorts of technical shit he didn't understand that boiled down to the simple diagnosis of her dying. Ava wasn't dying. But he felt that knot of tension in his chest again. Felt the responsibility bearing down on him.

Sighing, he sat up, threw back the rest of his beer, and went searching for Chibs. The Scotsman was still at the bar, though now flipped through his magazine aggressively. "Bro," Hap said, drawing a glare from the other man. "Can I talk to you about somethin'?"

He exhaled loudly and Ava's resemblance to her father was very apparent in the scowl Chibs shot his way. "If you're lookin' for advice, you'd best look somewhere else. I ain't discussin' that shit with you."

Happy sighed. He should have expected that. He shook his head. "Nah. Nothin' like that. Business related."

"Aye," Chibs related with a nod and climbed off his bar stool.

They retreated down the hall, back to the juncture of the two cross-halls were John Teller's bike was on display. Hap studied the old Knucklehead while he fished a smoke out of his pocket and lit up. Chibs waited, arms folded, and didn't appear ready to chill the hell out anytime soon, so Hap finally just pushed ahead with his thought. "Are you all good with waitin' like Jax said? Sittin' around and hopin' the Irish don't show up?"

Chibs twitched a frown. "I have absolute respect for what Jackie-boy decides as President." His frown deepened and he looked away, over at the bike. "But no. It don't sit right with me. I've learned better than to doubt what Jimmy's capable of."

Hap nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "I'm gonna reach out to some guys, see if they've heard anything. I don't think we've seen the end of this."

Chibs scratched at his goatee absently, still staring at John's bike. "You know," he said quietly. "Sometimes…I dunno…it woulda been easier if the girls had stayed hidden. I love havin' 'em here, but…"

But he felt like they'd been put in danger because of him. "You ain't gotta worry about the girl. I got that shit covered."

Chibs gave him a long, flat look. He nodded finally. "Aye. I know."

**-O-**

Juice gave Ava free rein with his "office" – his old desktop PC set up in the corner of the common room – and she spent the rest of her afternoon sorting out things with the school. She had to download and fill out withdrawal forms for all her classes, the links only working half the time, the school's server giving her technical difficulties at every turn; slow downloads, incomplete downloads, _page cannot be displayed _messages galore. And the registrar's office gave her the run around, forwarding her call to other departments or dropping her completely.

She called Tara for help at one point and the doc actually stopped by the clubhouse on the way home from the hospital. The evening turned dark beyond the windows and Ava's eyes burned from looking at the computer screen for so long. Her back hurt and her legs had long ago fallen asleep, and she was actually quite willing to abandon her task when Juice approached and asked if she was done yet. He had that worried, _someone's fucking up my computer_, _not my baby – anything but her! _strain to his voice. Tara, without even looking up, told him "not now. We aren't finished." Ava apologized with a smile and a shrug. To be so smart, the doc had absolutely no tact when it came to dealing with the other guys. Hurt, Juice went to the bar and pouted.

When she was finally finished, all of classes withdrawn from and all subsequent paperwork filed electronically, Tara on her way out the door, Ava slid out of the swivel chair and stretched out across the hard, dirty floor of the clubhouse. She reached her hands all the way over her head, pointed her toes and heard her back crack. Much better.

"Hey, Hap," she heard Tig chuckle. "I think she's ready for you to mount her, man. Get over here."

She rolled her eyes and sat up. Hap was playing pool with Bobby and she saw him grin at Tig's comment. He'd managed to avoid her most of the day, probably on purpose she figured. He'd been in and out of the clubhouse, making hushed phone calls and hanging out with Tig, leaving her to her business. It wouldn't have bothered her if not for his anger earlier. As she stood and worked the kinks out of her shoulders, she hoped what she was about to do would be received well. The thought of him holding a grudge against her verged on devastating.

"You have such a way with words, Tigger," she grumbled, making her way over to the pool table. Juice chuckled at the bar and she mouthed _thank you _to him as she passed. He nodded.

It was Hap's turn and he was leaned over the felt, cue lined up for his shot. It was one of the few times his ass was noticeable under his baggy jeans. Damn, he really did have a nice ass. The man had zero percent body fat. Ava felt a pleasant shudder ripple through her as she sidled up to the table. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from grinning hugely, and saw Bobby watching her from the corner of her eye. Seeing them together was strange for everyone, and maybe this was a bad idea, but Ava desperately wanted him to not still be angry with her. And she had the full-body shivers at the thought of sinking her nails into that ass of his.

She leaned low, braced a hand on the felt beside his cue, and lined her mouth up with his ear. "I'm gonna go take a shower," she whispered. "But then I wanna give you that back rub if you're still interested."

It would be too embarrassing if he turned her down in front of his brothers, so she walked away and left him to think about it.

**-O-**

The shower was nice, the hot water soothing for her stiff spine. She didn't even mind the Crow Eater shampoo too bad. Afterward, she tucked and knotted a towel under her arms and went to peek out into the dorm room as she combed the snarls out of her hair. She was a little surprised to see Hap laying on his stomach across the end of the bed, naked, looking through an _Iron Horse_.

Ava smiled and leaned back against the door jamb as she pulled the brush through her wet hair. "Hey."

He glanced up and she thought she'd melt at the way his eyes moved over her. "Hey."

"Are you…" she set the brush down, stalling ", still mad at me?"

The magazine hit the floor and he propped up on his elbows, shooting her a perplexed look. "What? Mad at you? What're you talkin' about?"

"Earlier, you know, about the Sacramento thing."

Hap sighed. "C'mere and gimme a massage."

Ava pushed off the jamb and crossed the room, warming just at the smoky promises in his voice. She realized, somewhat ashamed, that she had no idea how to give a proper, spa quality massage, but maybe he wouldn't care. When she reached the bed, his arm curled around one of her legs, his hand spread wide on the back of her thigh, fingers tickling at her ass.

"Hey," he shook her lightly. "I'm not mad, kiddo. Not _at _you." He twitched his fingers and she felt herself leaning forward, his back rub suddenly not at the top of her priority list. He kept his eyes trained to hers though, and she wasn't willing to break that spell. "But you gotta let me do my job. When I say 'no', it's for a reason. I don't wanna have to worry."

Her heart seemed to swell, even as her pulse accelerated at his touch. He really did try to take care of her. Whether or not he claimed ignorance of this type of relationship situation, he knew how to look after her. "You're so good to me." She put her hand over his, pressing his hand tighter against her flesh.

He chuckled, shook her off, and smacked her ass lightly. "A'ight, ya little freak. Let's go. Up top."

Her skin now fever-flushed with excitement, she walked along the end of the bed, even with his side. She smiled. His legs and ass never saw the light of day and were a shade lighter than his torso. He had the SOA reaper, larger than life inked on his back, minus the top and bottom rockers like Jax, the rest of his skin covered with little colorful, scrolled odds and ends. A knife with some detailed free-hand work around it. More smiley faces along the small of his back. He was so tanned and tight and toned; skin, ligaments and sleek muscle over bone…she couldn't resist. She climbed up onto the bed and straddled his hips, pulling out the hem of her towel so she was sitting bare skin on skin, her knees along his sides.

Hap twitched at the contact. "Is this gonna be one of _those_ kinda massages?"

"I was hoping," she said. She smoothed her palms up either side of his spine, leaning forward, knowing he had to be able to feel that she was starting to get just a little bit wet at all the "doing his job" talk. He chuckled. Yep, he knew. And the vibrations the laughter sent through his body were fabulous.

Stealing herself against grinding on him, Ava kneaded alongside his neck, working out to his shoulders. Her thumb found a little knot and she pressed it hard. He groaned. "Fuck…yeah, right there, baby."

She bit her lip as she worked the spot, his words now making her anxious to have him inside her. But she'd promised a back rub, and she'd deliver. Ava worked slow, and he didn't complain, letting her know when she hit a tense place that needed a little more attention. His skin felt so good under her hands, her fingers stark white against him, and she got lost in the steady rhythm of it.

She was stroking the heels of her hands up the middle of his back when he chuckled again. "You that hot, babe?"

Ava realized, with a jolt, that as she moved her hands, she moved her body too, was working her hips and grinding hard against him. Shit…she was breathing hard and really getting into it, wet and very close to getting herself off.

"I'm sorry," she groaned. "I swear I didn't mean to." He laughed and again his body shook…that was it. She wanted him too bad. She pulled the knot out of her towel and let it fall away as she stretched out across his back, her face at the back of his neck. "I have no self control," she whispered. "And you're going tomorrow and…damn, I just want you."

"You gonna finish?" there was a smile to his voice. "Or you want help?"

"Help, please."

She felt him roll to the right and she went left, ending up on her side and facing him. His eyes looked black in the room's soft light, teeth flashing white when he grinned nastily. "Lil' skank," he teased pulling one of her legs up over his hip.

"I know," she said without shame, moving into him at his urging. His erect cock folded up between them, hard against her belly. She rocked her hips, moving against it, and he made a low sound in his throat.

Hap rolled, pushing her onto her back, settling over her. He waited though, Ava about ready to combust. She pushed her hips up, trying to encourage him, but he stayed still. "Hap."

"I'm comin' back. Tomorrow…I ain't gonna stay gone this time."

Ava froze beneath him, caught off guard. He was staring down at her intently, face serious. Trying to stress the meaning behind the words. And just like when he'd mentioned the tree, she felt that rush of disbelief that he'd known exactly what to say to her. And a swell of grateful, loving emotions got caught in her throat in a lump. "I know," she finally answered.

He waited until she smiled, then he was on her.

**TBC**


	35. Chapter 35

**AN: I can't thank all of you enough for the reviews. **

…

Ava had spent enough time with so-called normal teenagers to know that of the things she wanted from life, living in a musty old dorm room with a seriously dirty dude old enough to be her father shouldn't have been on the list. But at seven in the morning, still half asleep, curled up on her side and watching Hap walk around the room in his boxers, it was pretty much the only thing on _her_ list. Out in the "real" world, what she had with him was unacceptable. Scorned. She was a confused child who'd gotten lost and had been manipulated by a dangerous man. They didn't understand her, or him, because they didn't understand the club.

The Sons were about the Sons – not government, not society. No frills. Denim, leather, steel, chains, grease, blood, sweat, tears. American cars and Harley-Davidson motorcycles. They inspired fear…and respect. The club was a subset of blue collar Americana, but was rich with the spoils of Anarchistic business. And at the heart of the gun-running, the fighting, the dominating, was a family. One that was brought closer, its bonds made stronger, by the violent life the boys led out on the pavement. If anything, that violence was necessary to preserve the family. And their way of life. It was a vicious cycle – one none of them would trade. Here, bundled up in a sheet, dreamy and peaceful after an all night, goodbye fuck fest, Ava Telford was home. And she'd figure out the rest later.

"Make me a list," Hap said, pulling a wifebeater on.

Ava frowned, her view of his splendid chest and all its tats impaired. "Paper?"

"Nightstand."

She was comfy and hated to move, but reached across and finally found a crumpled pad of Post-its in the drawer along with a pen that had obviously been chewed on. She resisted the urge to chew on it herself as she tried to decide what Hap might actually be capable getting for her. She had to have clothes. Underwear – she put a smiley face next to that item. Her shampoo. Her extra pack of razor blades. Her laptop. Her heavier, cold weather jacket. Her black All Stars. Her phone charge cord. She printed out a few other things and by the time she had the three Post-its pressed together and ready for him, he was dressed and sliding his cut on over his shoulder holster.

"Is that everything?" he asked, reaching for it.

She sat up as she handed over the list, trying to keep her expression perky. He'd said he was coming back. He _was _coming back, he'd promised her. But she was at that point where she was thoroughly obsessed, addicted, and strung out over the possibility of even the smallest separation. Which was stupid, because he was a Nomad and wouldn't ever have the luxury of sitting around all day doing nothing with her. "Uh-huh. I don't need much. Just a few things."

"A few?" he frowned as he scanned the three yellow squares. "Jesus Christ, what do you call a lot?"

Ava rolled her eyes, which earned a disgruntled snort. "You'll have the truck."

He stuck the Post-its in his pocket with a strange expression.

"What?"

"Nothin'." His face returned to its normal, slightly stern hardness. He leaned down and kissed her, one rough hand around her throat, and left her considerably more awake when he pulled away. "I'll be back, kiddo. Stay hard."

Ava smiled softly. Apparently, he was never going to stop calling her that. He'd been giving her that phrase her whole life. _Stay hard _– keep your eyes open, be alert, protect yourself. And she guessed no matter how many times and ways they fucked, she was still "kiddo". Considering what that dual affection had earned her, it was okay.

She watched him gather up his phone and wallet, hook his chain onto his belt, and the glimmer of the metal sparked a thought. "Hey, Hap?"

"Yeah." He didn't turn.

"Do you think, when you're there, you'd mind grabbing one more thing for me?"

He turned around with a sigh. "What?"

She almost changed her mind, but she looked at his unadorned fingers and had to ask. "I have this little jewelry box in the top of my closet. Inside, top row…your ring."

His face smoothed a moment, completely expressionless, and his brows twitched.

"Would you bring it?"

He nodded once. "Yeah. Okay."

**-O-**

The garage opened at eight-thirty, which meant Maggie should have been stepping out of the shower by now. But her unflappable Scotsman was in a strange mood this morning. "What's going on in there?" she asked, raking her fingers through the silver streaks in his hair. He always looked extra scruffy in the mornings, all disheveled. But he was usually very handsy and tried to pull her back into bed when the alarm went off.

Chibs was quiet now, staring at the ceiling. Maggie shifted around so she could rest her temple against the point of his shoulder, right at the head of his reaper tat. "You're quiet this morning," she tried again, reaching to tickle the dollar bill at the base of his throat.

He sighed loudly. "I was talkin' to _him _yesterday."

Ah, yes, _him_. Happy had gone from one of his much-loved brothers, to simply _him _because she'd told him to stop with the "motherfucking-son of a bitch-asshole-pervert" routine.

"I'm worried about this thing with the Irish," he went on, surprising her. "It's good about Ava, you know? That she has him."

Maggie knew there was a lot more he wasn't telling her – club business stuff – but it was nice to hear him start coming around. "Yes it is," she agreed simply, snuggling in close to him.

**-O-**

Ava, with only one change of clothes, found a white t-shirt in Hap's closet with SONS printed across the chest in black all caps. She put it on over her black leggings and cinched the baggy material around the slimmest part of her waist with one of his belts. She had to tie because it was too large to buckle and fit properly. She did her hair and makeup, penciling black eyeliner with slow, unnecessary care, trying to preoccupy herself from the fact that Hap was gone. She added her black boots and staple silver hoop earrings and she thought the ensemble actually looked cute, and not just like some slouchy chick her in her boyfriend's clothes.

The clubhouse was quiet as she went down the hall. The garage was open again for the first time since the lockdown and the boys were no doubt swamped with cars. Maggie, she was sure, was elbow deep in paperwork and threatening to rip some kind of new hole in somebody. And here she was…just…here. Nothing to do. No one to talk to. She felt a little stupid that she'd taken such great care to blow dry her hair with her big paddle brush, smoothing and twisting the dark strands just to her liking. That she'd brushed on her eye shadow with delicate, precise motions. All done up and nowhere to go.

She found a box of banana – gag – Powerbars in the kitchen and sat down in front of the TV.

**-O-**

"Ava!" She was curled up and nearly asleep in one of the old recliners and startled at the call. "I have got to get outta here, girl, you wanna come with?"

Maggie came around the front of the chair and looked very close to literally pulling her hair out. "This place is a fucking zoo today! And I swear, if farm boy calls me 'ma'am' one more time…." She shook her head. "I need something to wear to Gemma's charity gig anyway. What do you say we hit the shops?"

Ava sat up straight with a frown. She had explicit instructions to stay at the clubhouse and not go _wandering around to get her little ass killed_. He had such a way with words. "I don't know if I can," she answered honestly.

Maggie seemed to snap out of her crazed, gesticulating flurry of I-want-to-go-shopping mania and gave her a hard look. "He told you not to leave?"

"More or less. I'm supposed to 'stay at the clubhouse'. You should have seen him yesterday, Mom. He's bonkers with paranoia."

"Bonkers?" Maggie folded her arms and half smiled. "Congrats on being the first person still breathing to call Happy 'bonkers' there, kid." But she shook her head. "It's just down to Main Street and back. We'll hit Clara's and Painted Lady. Nothing's going to happen in broad daylight in the middle of Charming."

The offer was tempting. Ava hadn't been alone with her mother, just the two of them hanging out and talking about stupid shit in a long time. And it never hurt to shop with Mom and pick up a freebie here and there. "I'm bored. And I really wanna go."

"So come."

"But what if -,"

"I'll deal with Hap," Maggie said with an eye roll. She reached down for Ava's hand, wiggling her fingers. "You might be his, but you're still my daughter and I deserve some time to be a mom."

"Yeah, okay," Ava finally relented. "But just for a little while."

Maggie sighed, but nodded as she helped pull her up to her feet. She scanned her outfit. "You know, that's pretty cute actually."

**-O-**

Happy called while Ava was out with Maggie. And all the excitement at her shopping finds died when he told her that he couldn't talk long, but that something had come up and he wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Maggie had reminded her that at least he'd called and she hadn't been left wondering. That was true, but it didn't make her any less sad.

She helped Maggie in the office for awhile. Chibs went out for burgers and they ate dinner in the clubhouse before her parents had to go home. It felt strange that she didn't leave with them. It would have been nice to stay in her old room. Watch bad TV with Chibs and have some company. But Happy had told her to stay at the clubhouse, with Tig, Bobby, and Juice, so she would be safe. And she was an Old Lady now, so listening was part of her job.

At a little after midnight, Ava laid in Hap's dorm, wearing his shirt, her head on his pillow, and stared at the ceiling. She tried to pretend she couldn't hear Tig and his "date" next door, but things seemed to be getting louder instead of quieter. She was reaching for her iPod on the nightstand, hoping to drown out the sounds of ecstasy with music, when she heard something that turned her stomach. The girl – the redhead Juice had been chatting up all evening – had been yelling for awhile now. But suddenly, she was no longer crying out, but bleating like a sheep. The _baaaaa _was an unmistakable farm animal impersonation.

"That's it," she fumed to herself, climbing out of bed. Her skin crawled and she hummed to herself, trying to block out the goddamn _bleating _as she fumbled in the top drawer of the dresser for a clean pair of Hap's boxers. When she was decent, she burst out into the hall and went down to the common room.

Lingering in the mouth of the hall a moment, she noticed Juice at a table, his laptop open, the blue glow of the screen lighting up his tired, unhappy face. He'd been so excited about the redhead who was currently playing livestock sex games with Tig. And she'd seen the intelligence officer pissed and hard-jawed earlier, but now, without an audience, he was just completely lost, wondering what he'd done wrong that had driven the girl into Tig's devious arms instead of his own. He'd told her before that he had ADD and didn't sleep well unless he was drugged or drunk, but this wasn't his normal Xbox all-nighter shit.

Ava took a step back and went into the kitchen. She found a pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Phood in the freezer and one clean spoon in the drawer, then went to join Juice.

"Hey," she said so as not to spook him, settling into the chair next to him.

"Hey," he said glumly, not looking away from his computer.

"I couldn't sleep," Ava pried the lid off the ice cream and took a bite.

He made a noncommittal noise of agreement.

"If she chose that asshole over you, she's a moron."

Juice turned and shot her a frown. "No she's not. She's a smart chick." He shook his head. "Goddamn, she's not even a sweetbutt or anything. I met her at the grocery store."

Ava felt a little stab of pity for him. The girl was obviously neither smart nor high class if she'd ended up helping Tig commit an imaginary felony within two hours of meeting him, but it wouldn't do any good to tell Juice that. He just looked like a kicked puppy when he got like this. "You liked her, huh?"

He sighed and glanced away again. "Doesn't matter."

It was quiet a moment. Ava used the meager light from his laptop to find and dig a little chocolate fish out of the ice cream.

"Why can't you sleep?" Juice asked. "You Happy-dependent?"

She sighed. "Sadly, yes. And Tig's making all this noi -," she froze, spoon in front of her mouth when she realized the slip.

A shadow and a twitch rippled across his face, but he quickly returned to that quiet, absolute sadness. "Fuck it," he muttered, pushing his computer back across the table. The light welled, covering both of them in blue. "Gimme some of that."

Ava slid the carton towards him and handed over the spoon. "Sorry."

He shrugged and dipped up a huge bite, caramel and marshmallow strings dangling off the spoon. "Story of my life."

They passed the spoon back and forth in silence for awhile, Ava wondering if this was what it felt like to have a brother. "What are you gonna do?" he finally asked as he handed her the spoon.

She squinted in the dim light and made a face. "Dude, you left all kinds of marshmallow slobber on this."

"What? No I didn't."

"You did! That's so against the rules of spoon sharing."

"Listen to you," he rolled his eyes and took the spoon back. "You sound like a _teenage girl_!"

"Huh."

He licked the spoon clean with way too much tongue and a chuckle at her expression before handing it back. "But seriously, you pulled outta your classes…you gonna live here forever?"

"No," she scowled at the ice cream as she plunged the spoon back in. "I mean…I don't know. I keep telling myself I'll go back to school, but if this shit with the Irish doesn't blow over, I have no idea what's gonna happen."

Juice shook his head. "I honestly can't see Hap being involved with college shit." His eyes widened. "I mean…not that he doesn't want you to go…I'm sure he does, it just -,"

"It's cool. I can't see it either," she saved him. "And…don't tell my parents this -,"

He nodded.

" – but I could give a shit about school. Hap's the most important person in my life and I'm not going to jeopardize that. Not if I can help it."

She extended the spoon and he didn't take it immediately. "Wow."

"What?"

"That's dedication. Why can't you have an available older sister?"

"Ha ha," she shoved at his arm.

He laughed and leaned away from her as his cell went off. "Shit, who's calling me this late?"

"Maybe your date's tied up and needs you come rescue her," Ava snorted.

"Watch it." He finally got his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Yeah?"

**-O-**

Moose sighed as he watched Kozik scrape the chips up with both arms. "And that, gentlemen," the Sgt at Arms grinned wickedly. "Is how you play the game."

"Yeah," Moose pushed his chair back ", I'm so fuckin' glad you could come back home and steal all my goddamn money."

"Steal? I _won_ that shit, brother. You can't blame me for your shitty-ass bluff."

"Yeah." He dug out his wallet and realized, with a grown, that he had exactly three dollars cash on him. "Shit, catch ya tomorrow?"

Koz wagged his head. "Nah. You think I'll fall for that again? No, pay up, fat man."

"I'll hafta go down to the ATM."

"So go. I got all night."

"Jesus," Glen shot them a look from the bar. "If I sign you two up for _Wife Swap, _which bitch do I get to get rid of?"

The other guys chuckled over the soft clink of pool balls and thump of mugs against wood table tops. Koz made a pouty face. "Don't hate me because I won…and because I'm prettier than all of you."

"I'm goin'!" Moose threw up his hands. "Just shut the fuck up already!"

Koz grinned. "Thanks, babe. I knew you'd come through for me."

The twenty year Tacoma veteran rolled his eyes as he turned away from the poker table. In truth, he didn't mind the enforcer giving him shit. Everyone had been tip-toeing around him ever since the accident last year. There was the occasional question about the knee or the hip or how were the kids doing without Rhonda, but for the most part, no one wanted to bother the guy who'd dumped his ride, nearly crippled himself, and killed his Old Lady.

It was a pleasant night outside as he stepped out into the lot and headed for the line of bikes backed up to the fence. Cool. Breezy. It would make for cold riding, so he zipped up the leather jacket he wore beneath his cut.

A year ago, when the accident had happened, his Fat Boy had gone under the wheels of a cattle rig; truck and trailer mangling his bike to bits. His new ride was a Dyna Wide Glide, and though it wasn't his sentimental favorite, it was still a good bike. He'd parked between Lorca and R.J. and he slipped between his bike and the one beside it, already reaching for his helmet before he remembered that he'd left it on the handlebars, not the seat.

"Huh."

One of the guys must have knocked it off and set it back up. Whatever. He picked up the helmet, but paused when he realized there was something on the seat beneath it. There was a long, cylindrical length of plastic, short and capped at both ends. It was white. Like PVC. Like PVC pipe. Like…holy mother of God. Fucking _pipe. _As in…

Moose dropped his helmet and turned, making a mad lunge for the pavement. For him, there was no sound. There was only light – so white hot that his eyes felt seared from his head. Probably were, actually. The brightness swelled, all encompassing, pressing in, so silent it was loud, choking him, breaking every bone, slicing every vein, burning every inch of flesh, inside and out of his body. Moose had a fleeting, desperate thought that this wasn't the way he'd wanted to die. Before a nail pierced the gas tank of his bike and the parking lot was flooding with homemade napalm.

**TBC**


	36. Chapter 36

Koz was a big fan of all movies that included explosions. _Die Hard, First Blood, Die Hard 2, Predator, Die Hard With A Vengeance_…he was well versed in the visual orgasm that was blowing shit up.

But the movies didn't tell you what it sounded like. Bruce Willis hadn't mentioned that the walls of the clubhouse would shake, that pictures would crash to the floor, glass breaking. That everyone would bolt for the door until they were all just a pushing, shoving, cussing wall of flesh that was bottlenecked at the entrance.

And then the smell hit him; that acrid, pungent, sharp tang of gasoline and rubber all melted together. The crowd parted and then he saw it. The smoke was everywhere; thick, black, billowing in fat, ugly clouds that doubled over on themselves and kept expanding, blotting out the light. He saw the last flicks of liquid fire as they licked across the line of bikes. Little tongues that darted through the black air before they were pinched out of existence. Three of the bikes were on fire. Two of his brothers. And the black, burning mound that had once been Moose lay twisted and unrecognizable on the pavement. The white asphalt was scorched; the blast marks shooting out, like God had reached down from heaven to smite the sinner. There was silver, glittering shrapnel everywhere.

All the shouting and the yelling and sizzling of flames seemed to grow further and further away until it was only white noise. Koz speared his fingers through his hair, needing to hold onto something, _anything_. This couldn't be happening. Not at their clubhouse. Not at his home. He couldn't rectify the grumpy, bearded man who'd scowled at him over the tops of his cards with the smoking heap on the ground.

And then the enforcer in him kick-started into overdrive and he was rushing forward with his brothers.

"_Somebody fuckin' call 9-1-1_!" Glen screamed. "_Now_!"

**-O-**

"What's going on?"

Juice paced a step away from the table and scratched at his mohawk. Why did his damn head always itch at a time like this? He couldn't shake the sound of Glen's voice out of his head; that quiver of panic in the Tacoma VP's words. There had been wailing sirens in the background. Yelling. Heavy breathing. _Holy fuck, they blew up Tacoma! Pipe bomb! Fucking pipe bomb! _Shit, he had to do something, he had to –

Ava. He turned around and saw her half out of her chair, her head tilted imploringly. Her little dark eyes were round as saucers in the glow of his laptop screen. He'd told Hap he would watch her and he really didn't have the time or wherewithal to do that now. Someone had blown up the Tacoma clubhouse parking lot with a goddamn pipe bomb.

And then, like it always did when he was stressed, that good old ADD kicked in and his brain started throwing out ideas faster than he could make sense of them. Someone had wanted to take out Moose. No, just his bike. Wait…no, why Moose anyway? He was a nice dude – older, minded his own business – and oh, shit, he'd lost his Old Lady last year in that accident. Damn, sucked to be his kids at the moment. Bomb. Right, bomb. They were after the bikes. Disable the Sons. Yeah, Mayans maybe? Turf war bullshit? But those dumbass wetbacks would have just rolled up windows down in the old low-riding Caddy, ghetto Mexican drive-by. Yeah, or like when they were in Indian Hills and they shot up the Tribe's clubhouse. Mayans were all about the hardware. Dumbasses, didn't they know the likelihood of incurring injuries of their own when engaged in a shootout? If he carried the three, the odds of being struck by friendly fire alone were staggering, much less if you counted –

_Focus, you fucking retard! _Bomb. Pipe bomb. All filled up with nails and shrapnel and shit. All very terrorist like. Just sitting there, on Moose's bike…probably had a remote detonator…so not like a car bomb…wait, car bomb? As in _another _hit-or-miss terroristic threat. Pipe bomb. Car bomb. Pipe bomb…

"Irish!" he blurted. "Holy shit, that means…shit!" He headed for the back hall after Tig and Bobby, Ava calling after him. "Stay there," he levered some authority into his voice. It would take more than your average request to convince a chick who was used to taking orders from Happy.

His mind was racing as he banged on Bobby's door. He needed to get on the horn to Oregon, Salt Lake, Vegas, Indian Hills…shit, knowing Jimmy, Tacoma was just the first hit.

Bobby came to the door and instead of answering his questioning look, Juice went across the hall and pounded the side of his fist against Tig's.

"Go away," was the muffled response and Juice smacked his palm against the wood.

"C'mon, man. Tacoma just got blown to fuckin' hell."

There was a high, feminie shriek, some cursing, the thump of footfalls, and then Tig swung the door wide, shrugging into a shirt. "What?"

Tig had a hand on his hip, and through the little triangular window between his side and his elbow, Juice spotted Jessica, his supposed date for the evening, sitting up in bed, her hair and makeup a shambles, naked and not trying to cover herself. _Whore _he spared her that much of a thought and then retreated back down the hall. "Pipe bomb set up on one of the bikes," he explained as walked. "Killed Moose -,"

"Goddamn."

"- took out three bikes, damaged four more. Max and Bully got burned real bad trying to get to him in time." Juice shook his head as he turned around to face the other two Sons. "I just got the call."

"Gotta be the Irish," Tig said with a glare. "That IED shit's straight outta the IRA playbook."

Bobby was nodding vigorously. "We heard from the other charters? Anything else goin' on?"

"I was getting ready to make the calls." Juice wiped a hand down his face. This was so overwhelming. He reached for his cell and Tig's hand closed around his arm, which, considering the whole Jessica incident, wasn't the most well received of gestures. "Dude -,"

"How do we know we don't have a bomb out there on one of our bikes?" Tig asked. "We're the ones who took out Doyle, not Tacoma."

"Ho-ly shit," Bobby muttered. "If they were gonna hit us all, they'd do it all at once."

It was silent a moment. Juice was trying to think of a possible way to check for explosives that didn't send them the way of poor Moose, when Ava spoke up behind him.

"Guys? What's going on?"

"Nothing," Tig snapped.

Juice frowned as he glanced over and saw her sitting with one long leg pulled up under her, worrying the hem of one of Hap's shirts with her fingers. "Leave her alone," he told Tig. "She's scared."

"She should be scared."

"Tig," Bobby warned. "Leave it alone. We got other shit to worry about."

The Sgt at Arms shook his head. "Jesus Christ. Alright, you start making calls," he pointed at Juice ", Bobby, watch the kid, and I'll go check it out."

**-O-**

There was a skylight in the ceiling of the upstairs apartment and Tig was able to stand on Jax's old dresser and climb out onto the sloped roof. It got inky black at night in Charming and the security lamps along the clubhouse front and garage office did little to cut the dark. The lot was a big, flat stretch of shadows, his and Bobby's and Juice's bikes all lined up in a neat, black row.

Tig had Juice's rifle with him and he scanned the property through the night scope as he walked slowly and silently around the front of the building. The roof met the concrete lip of the building at a hard angle and the path was narrow, so the going was slow. That would just be too Juice of him to trip over the edge of the roof and break his neck down below on the pavement.

He recalled a different cool night, grit under his boots, the world green through a night vision scope. That had been a lifetime and a half a world away. A life remembered by the tattoo on his left forearm. _Death Before Dishonor. _Death didn't scare him, not if it was for the club, but he very much didn't want to meet his end with a pipe bomb. He'd seen his share of explosions, as a Son and a Marine, and it wasn't a pretty thing. So he waited, crouched low on the roof, scrutinizing every inch of parking lot for anything out of the ordinary, ears straining for the tiniest of sounds.

He was about to give up and pack it in when he spotted a flurry of movement through the scope. He grinned as he racked the bolt on the 700. "Gotcha, fucker."

**-O-**

Ava paced the clubhouse floor in her bare feet, raking her hands back through her hair over and over. Bomb? Oh, God, there had been a bomb? In Tacoma? "Who…?" she turned to face Bobby, not able to form the words aloud. Because she didn't know what she'd do if he told her it had been Koz or Glen.

He held up two hands and made a downward motion. _Calm down. _"Pretty Boy's fine," he soothed. "Far as we know, Moose was the only casualty. Max and Bully got air lifted. Burns. Shrapnel and shit. But everybody else is _okay_."

Ava nodded, hating that she was so selfish. Here the boys were no doubt crushed at the loss of a brother, the possible maiming of two more, and she was only worried about the two she was close to. She wanted to feel differently, but at the moment, she couldn't.

Juice was at his computer, talking nine hundred miles a minute on his cell. He had to alert the Charming boys, tell them all to hold off until they could figure out whether the lot was safe, and then notify the other charters to be on the look-out. The girl, Jessica -Ava had learned, was now clothed and sitting on a bar stool, frightened tears streaming down her cheeks. She'd had quite the night; her little sexcapade had turned into fretting over a bomb scare. That was exactly the reason non-club girls didn't belong.

And, God, where the fuck was Happy? Out on the road somewhere? Spending the night in another clubhouse? Panic, hard as a fist, curled up in a tight knot against her sternum.

Jessica made a whimpering sound over on her stool. "Can't I just go home?" she pleaded.

"Sure," Ava snapped. She wasn't angry with this girl – aside from the rude-ass animal noises that had been coming through the wall, oh, and the fact that she'd hurt Juice – but she didn't know her. Her worry just needed an outlet. "Go right ahead and leave, you can be like the canary in our mine shaft. If you die, we'll know there's a problem!"

She gasped and Bobby gave Ava a dirty look. "Now hey, you be stressed all you want, but don't get nasty."

"Why not? What's she even _doing here_? Dumb bitch."

"Alright, now you sound like your mama. Cool it."

She scowled at him, but didn't really mean it. Nor had she meant what she'd said about the other girl. It just felt like there was something alive trying to claw its way out of her chest. She had a sudden vision of _Aliens _and shuddered.

"This is hard, I know, it is for all of us," Bobby reminded gently. "But we have got to keep calm." Ava sighed and nodded. "Think about it, what would Gemma do?"

She coughed a humorless laugh and shook her head. "Oh…I hate this."

"I know, sweetheart," he pulled her into a sideways hug.

None of them were prepared for the monstrous _BOOM _that seemed to erupt all around and above them, the pictures on the wall rattling in their frames. Jessica screamed and dove under the bar. Ava, already under Bobby's arm, lunged against him, grabbing at the front of his cut. He and Juice, quickly recovering from their initial shock, seemed relieved however.

Juice stood, his chair screeching backward across the hardwood. "That was my gun," he clarified as the echoes of the shot faded away like the distant pealing of bells. Which was at once both a relief and a fright. Because if Tig had found something to shoot, it meant Tacoma wasn't the only target.

A few moments later, Tig came in through the front door, Juice's Remington over his shoulder, something about the size of a cell phone in one hand. "One guy," he said, passing Juice the gun. "And he was carrying this," he held up the other object.

"Remote detonator," Bobby said. "Fuck. Where's the bomb?"

"On him."

Jessica stood slowly, smearing at her ruined makeup and wet, snotty face. Tig looked at her with something like disgust – his little toy was all weepy and shit now. "Go," he jerked a thumb towards the door. "Get outta here." She left with a clatter of stilettos and not one backward glance.

Ava couldn't find any relief in her absence though. The Irish had gone to Tacoma tonight, had come _here _to Charming. They were out to kill them all.

**-O-**

"…_you're a sweet talkin', sexy walkin', honky-tonkin' baby. The men are gonna love ya and the women gonna hate ya. Remindin' them of everything they're never gonna be…"_

"Turn that shit down," Hustle grumbled. He waited until the Prospect had killed the radio before he flipped open his cell. "Yeah?"

"Hey, man, it's Juice in Charming."

Hustle squinted, trying to conjure up a face to go with that name. He didn't leave Oregon too much anymore. He'd talked to whoever this Juice guy was several times on the phone, but he couldn't say he'd ever seen him face to face.

"Look," Juice went on. "Something's going down."

**-O-**

As Nomads, Hap and his brothers had learned to adapt to road life without a charter clubhouse. They didn't have HQ resources like, say, Charming or Oregon, and had developed their own intelligence network. So when Happy had pulled up to Ava's apartment, fully intending on getting her shit and checking out, he had been a little wary of the tip-off call he'd received. Terrence had never led him astray though, and this time, the Oakland club owner had really delivered when he'd said there was a patron the giving him a stink about wanting to talk to Laroy Wayne – and the dude had been sporting a "goddamn sissy-ass accent".

And then Juice had called about Tacoma. Goddamn, he couldn't wrap his head around it. He'd been gone for five years now, but they'd been his brothers since the beginning. And Moose…shit, he had two kids and his Old Lady had died the year before. Now they were orphans. He wished he'd been there. He wished a lot of things these days; for starters, that Jax had listened to reason on the Irish issue. Now brothers were dead because their President was too cocky to think that the IRA would strike back so quickly, or so hard.

Hap had known, though. Sneaking in, leaving a bomb - that wasn't his style, but it was textbook IRA. Just because the west coast hadn't ever been subjected to the violence that plagued the streets of Belfast didn't mean they were safe. The explosion tonight had proved that. Moose had proved that.

Hap had intended to stow his new little friend somewhere safe, somewhere he could be worked over without an audience. But the club was pulling back in, climbing into its shell until it was safe to come out. He glanced in the rearview of Ava's truck and saw the long bundle stretched out beside his bike in the bed. He was about thirty minutes outside of Charming. He floored it.

**-O-**

In just two hours since the phone call about Tacoma, the Charming clubhouse had turned into an MC refugee camp. Everyone had come dragging in wearing hastily donned outfits and carrying only what they'd been able to scrape together on last minute's notice. Unlike a formal lockdown, this was a rushed, desperate retreat to safety. There was no seemingly chaotic order of bringing in groceries and setting up extra beds and battening down the hatches for war times. The women sat in a loose circle on the sofas and chairs, not saying anything, straining to hear the rumble of voices coming through the chapel walls.

Ava was between Tara and her mother, a too-big Abel in her lap. She would never understand why the five-year-old was so insistent on hanging out with her – it probably had something to do with the fact that he said she was ",cool for a chick". Lyla, to everyone's surprise, had produced a little canvas tote bag and from it a ball of iridescent pink yarn and a set of knitting needles.

"It's calming," she had explained and was now adamantly working on what looked like a scarf for Ellie, what with the pink and all.

Though miles apart looks wise, Ava saw a lot of herself in the quiet, fretful fourteen-year-old Ellie. It felt so strange to look at the other girl, to know she was only four years older, but that she had a man out there somewhere to worry about. Every other thought for Ava was of Happy. She worried where he was or if he was safe. If he'd even heard. Surely he had. He and Koz were so close after all…and thank Jesus Koz was okay…her favorite "uncle". It all felt so hard to process, her mind working like stream-of-conscience prose, here and there and all over the place, always coming back to that main focal point; Happy.

Gemma's silence was maybe the most disturbing. Instead of her usual frown and sighs of impatience, she was reserved. Expressionless. She and Maggie would share quiet, flat looks every so often that held no meaning for anyone else, but obviously conveyed some sort of message between the two cousins.

The voices came to a seemingly angry crescendo on the other side of the double doors and the glances between them became rapid fire. Quick twitches of eyebrows and lips. Ava was hit with the sudden realization that the boys might not come to a consensus on the way to handle this, that the stress and gravity of it all would get them at each other's throats. It had happened before. And then where did that leave the women? They had to support their men, whatever the position, Chibs had told her as much over dawn coffee. And this was a big issue. Though no longer voting members, Clay and Piney were in the chapel, contributing to the discussion. The new President was leaning on the old one.

It was all just too much. Abel was putting her legs to sleep and every time she inhaled she could smell Happy on the shirt she was wearing and it started her worrying all over again. It was quiet, too damn quiet, Lyla's needles clicking together and Gemma's toe tapping on the wood and the boys yelling in the chapel. She wanted to scream. And if it hadn't been for the soft squeal of the un-oiled hinges on the clubhouse door, she wouldn't have heard it open.

Fear stalled her heart as she looked to the entryway of the clubhouse, panicked at the thought of who could be entering, but then relief washed through her trembling arms. She urged Abel off her lap and hurried to meet Happy as he crossed the common room.

**-O-**

She was in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, all swallowed up by the baggy material, her legs slim and delicate. She wasn't wearing a bra and the soft peaks of her tits were tempting little swells, making him want to simultaneously put her up against a wall and take her, and cover her up so the others couldn't see. But the little worried furrow between her brows halted those thoughts, that paler than pale, stressed wash of her cheeks against her mahogany hair. Damn, bitches went to the salon to get hair that color.

The boys must have been in the chapel because it was only the women out here in the common room. And though they all looked at him curiously, only Ava was walking toward him, her unsupported, perfectly round tits bouncing under his shirt. He had intended to go straight to the chapel, but now all he saw was her. And even if it wasn't poised or Old Ladylike for her to come rushing up to him like this, he couldn't admonish her for it. Quite the opposite in fact.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Her voice sounded ready to crack.

She brought her hands up as if to touch him, but just let them hang, palms towards his chest, anxiety all over her face. When she was a little girl, seven or eight, and she'd get upset about something, he would always pull her up sideways against him. And feeling her relax had always eased a little tension he hadn't even recognized within himself. When your family was okay, you were okay. He'd learned this slowly.

"I'm fine, kid." He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her around so she was flush to his side. He let his hand linger along the ridge of her spine, down to her tight, round little ass that felt immeasurably nice in his boxers like that, and squeezed her tight to him. Her arms slid around his waist and she put her cheek against his chest. She inhaled and exhaled, loud and slow, and he felt some of his own urgency lessen. The girl was like salve over a burn; soothing.

Hap soaked her up a moment more, then pinched her lightly on the ass. Nudged her sideways with his hip. "I gotta see the guys, baby."

She released him instantly without question, though her face was full of longing. She went back to the sofa where her mother and the doc sat. He felt Gemma's eyes on him, but the Queen didn't speak.

Opening up the double doors silenced the volcanic bubbling of angry voices within the chapel. It was very against protocol to interrupt church, but this was necessary, and from the looks of things, Hap had shut everyone up before things could turn physical. Tig was no longer seated and was pacing madly along his side of the table. Clay and Piney were actually down at the end, each man glaring at his respective son. Bobby was staring at the ceiling, shaking his head, Juice had his forehead laid down over folded arms, and Tux was trying to blend in with the wall like a frightened prey animal.

All eyes snapped to him when he stepped into the room. "You heard?" Jax finally asked, voice tired.

Hap nodded and decided maybe he should say his piece before they could get riled up again. "I got one."

Tig shrugged. "Me too. They're like fucking whack-a-mole, popping up all over the goddamn place."

"No," he clarified. "He's alive. Out in the truck."

**TBC**

**AN: If it still feels crazy and confusing at this point, that's okay. It's supposed to.**


	37. Chapter 37

Hap's Irishman was a stocky little asshole; no taller than 5'5" but square-built and padded with thick bundles of muscle and fat. His carefully blank, non-descript face and crew cut screamed of a military background, though all his soldiering had most likely been done in the name of the IRA and not the British Army. He'd been in the Menagerie in the middle of the afternoon, cursing the girl who was trying to give him a lap dance and not look frightened about it, swigging straight out of a bottle of Cris Hap had paid for, tipsy and spouting shit about Laroy.

Happy had ideas and suspicions about the Irish reaching out to the Niners, but so far, the asshole had yet to oblige them with anything. Under the humming fluorescent lights inside one of the garage bays, the tool chests casting eerie shadows from the corners, the Irishman had his hands chained behind him around the auto lift. And Happy watched alongside Tig as Jax interrogated the bastard. Tried to, anyway.

The really direct questions had been met with a flat stare, so Jax sighed, scraped a hand down his chin, and started in with what Hap came to realize as the stupidest tactic ever used. "Well then how 'bout you tell us your name," the President almost seemed to _suggest _to the Irishman. God, what happened to the good old days of driving nail's into a suspect's foot?

The captive shrugged and Jax became more agitated. That was the problem with Jax – he got all wired up and shit.

"If you don't tell us your name," Tig said calmly. "Then I'll make one up for you. I'm thinking…Lucky Sean McShithead."

"Tig," Jax warned. He twisted around and the two locked eyes for a moment.

Hap had a feeling that whatever had been going on in the chapel, the two heads doing the hardest butting – like a pair of those damn big horn sheep he'd seen in Wyoming once – had been Jax and Tig. Blind action and an abundance of thought did not a perfect melding make. The tension in the garage bay, the electrical current of discontent that threatened to rattle the closed roll top door, was one that was created within the club, and had nothing to do with the Irishman before them.

Happy had seen this Jax versus Tig game go on before; those two just couldn't ever get on the same page. And there might have been something deeper there, an animosity on the President's part that went beyond simple disagreements. And though Hap had no intention of trying to play peacemaker like Bobby, there was a much greater issue at hand. The IRA had succeeded in bombing one clubhouse and had tried to attack two others. Here they had an untapped source that was being ignored in the Irishman, all due to differing opinions.

Hap fucking hated opinions and bureaucratic bullshit. It had no place when it came to protecting the club. With Jax and Tig still glaring at one another, he pushed off the wall and crossed to the chained man, pulling his knife with a little hiss as the blade left the leather sheath. He moved around to the Irishman's hands and rested the blade on one chained wrist.

"Hey," Jax called him.

Hap met his gaze and tilted his head. "He's gonna die anyway when we're done," he reasoned ", he can decide if he wants to go quick, or slowly…in more than one piece."

It was a very common, very effective persuasion technique. Though it sometimes led to a very sloppy, bloody silence, for the most part, the threat of taking a hand earned them some answers. Jax frowned, sighed, but finally gave a little nod of concession.

"Why were you asking after the Niners?" Jax asked, taking a step forward, scowling at the Irishman. "Talk, or he'll take your hand."

Their captive sneered. "Take it then, boy. Won't need it where I'm goin', yeah?"

Jax's face did the scrunch and sizzle number again; pulling his lips together, scowling, shaking his head, scratching at his hair. He was about to snap. Happy shared a look with Tig, one that had the Sgt at Arms nodding and stepping forward. He put a hand on Jax's shoulder and squeezed once.

"We'll get him to talk. You just ask the questions and we'll get him to talk."

Happy was a little bit stunned. He hadn't been around enough since the prince had assumed the throne to see this dynamic of the relationship. Even if it was reluctant, there was an understanding at work here. Jax turned his head slightly, some of the frustration leaving his face. Tig tilted his head, eyes wide, and Jax gave him a little nod.

"A'ight," he sighed, turning back to the Irishman.

Tig went over to the little work bench in the corner and Happy stepped away from the prisoner. The Irishman remained smug, but Hap saw it – just the tiniest glimmer of apprehension – at the sound of Tig firing up the blow torch.

**-O-**

"I still don't see why we have to look at the goddamn bomb _inside_," Gemma huffed. Ava thought she was doing a decent job of covering, but the Queen was more anxious than she'd seen her – ever. Gemma paced the length of the bar and would pause every so often to shoot an unshielded, raw look of fright towards the open chapel doors.

Bobby, Opie and Chibs were inside, examining the pipe bomb. Bobby and Ope were explosives specialists and had promised that nothing would happen, that they just needed to assess what they could about the device. They had promised Gemma they wouldn't try to diffuse it and instead, would drive it out into the dessert at first light, bury it, and set it off with the remote.

As frightening as the premise was, even though Ava felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, she was curious. About everything. Happy had apparently found an Irishman in Oakland, had knocked him out, bound and gagged him, and brought him back to the clubhouse. He was with Jax and Tig somewhere out in the night, doing what he did best. There was a bomb in the clubhouse. And instead of letting terror consume her, she was focusing on her curiosity.

"We're gonna die," Kenny said across the table.

"Kenny," his sister warned fiercely. "Don't say that! We are not!"

"Ava," he turned to her ", tell her to quit being a baby. We're going to die, aren't we?"

"We…um…" Ava faltered, not caught unawares by the question so much as the fact that it had been directed towards her. Since when had she become the role model? Yes, she was oldest of the SOA third generation, but she was just eighteen. And she didn't have any answers…and she…was with the club's hit man and they'd all watched her boldly play the role of girlfriend and adult. She took a deep breath and met Kenny's look head-on. "We're not going to die," she said firmly. "The guys have faced shit like this before and they'll face it again. We just have to be calm and help when we can."

Over Kenny's nodding head, she inadvertently locked eyes with Gemma. The Queen gave her a single nod and a tight smile. _Good job, baby _she could swear she hear the words conveyed by such a small gesture.

She was trying. God knew she was trying.

**-O-**

The interrogation had been somewhat successful. Between what they'd burned out of the live Irishman and picked out of the dead one's pockets, coupled with Juice's hacking and Opie's eye for explosives, several things had been deduced. Bobby summed everything up, as secretary, and hearing it all aloud and together like that, made their situation seem bleak.

Jimmy had dispatched a crew of his best thugs all along the west coast. Tacoma had been hit. Charming and Oregon had been targets – Hustle's crew up north had apprehended a bomber in much the same fashion as Tig, finding a similar pipe bomb filled with C4, a remote detonator, and enough nails to frame a house.

But that had only been one phase of the attack. The guy – Lucky Sean McShithead – that Happy had wrangled in Oakland, had been part of a three man team, apparently, bent on recruiting potential club rivals with knowledge of the MC's habits and weaknesses. A call to Laroy's crew had confirmed that the Niners had been approached, but had turned them down. Alvarez and his Oakland charter of the Mayans had been extended the Irish olive branch as well, though as of yet, Juice had been unable to deduce whether or not the Mexicans had offered aid.

"It's a smart plan," Jax admitted from the head of the redwood table. "Hit us hard and hit us fast."

"Shock and awe," Clay agreed. "It's what I woulda done." He paused to take a labored drag off his cigar with trembling hands. "Question is, Prez, how hard are you gonna have to hit 'em back?"

Jax sighed. "With everything we got. Which, right now, ain't a lot."

There was an air of _told you so _to Clay's snort and no one was willing to counter it. The gun business was barely afloat these days – the only dealings those mandated by Irish treaty. Which meant the Niner alliance was weaker and the Irish advantage stronger.

"Jimmy won't stop, brother," Chibs said, nudging the President lightly in the arm. "He's got hooks in all of us now, not just you and me, and he ain't gonna let this go."

"Tacoma was the first strike," Tig said. "Something else is coming. And it's bad."

Jax nodded, acknowledging all points as valid. He glanced down the table at Juice. "Did you talk to our friends back east?"

"Yeah. The Rebels actually offered us a safe house with their New Mexico charter. Said we could bring our innocents and regroup."

"You serious?"

Juice shrugged. "I think so."

Hap listened with half an ear – he would have little say so in the political shit that was occurring now. He'd throw a hand up when he needed to. And two little words had gotten lodged in the sieve in his had. _Our innocents. _He had his own innocent these days, always had he supposed, but now she was his responsibility alone. And innocent she surely was. No matter what he had and would do to her, she was his alone, and even when he had been enraged, he hadn't dared dish out the punishment another man would have dealt a lowly club bitch. Ava was sacred – his little compliant virgin – and he'd be damned if he'd send her off to goddamn New Mexico to hang out with an MC he knew little to nothing about. There were members of his own club he wouldn't trust with her, let alone a bunch of strangers. No, that option was off the table for him.

"We've never not been able to defend the home front," Clay was saying beside him. "I think that's a bit extreme to wanna send everybody to goddamn New Mexico."

Hap nodded without thinking. _Amen, brother. _

Chibs raked his hands through his hair. "I just…I dunno, Jackie-boy." The Scotsman was no doubt struggling with his prior track record of letting his women get thrust into dangerous situations. _Only one woman now _Hap thought with a small satisfaction. He cared about Maggie, the girl loved her mother, but he wasn't willing to take them both on…not now.

"We can't keep this clubhouse safe. The Irish proved that tonight, Clay," Jax said. "I think maybe we should think about the Rebels' offer."

**-O-**

The kid they'd left to stand watch could have been Irish; that head full of chestnut curls and those indistinguishable features of a boy who'd been rubbed smooth by a hard, but short life. His voice gave him away though – the lazy, deliberate speech of some backwater, American farmer. He was probably thirty, not overly muscled, just a kid who liked motorcycles and had seen enough bad shit that the current condition of Jamie's naked torso wasn't repulsive enough to make him sick. "Tux", the blond one had called him.

They'd asked question after question, the mean, black-haired one holding the torch to his flesh each time he refused to answer. He knew what he was doing too; knew just how close to get so that his skin was sufficiently cooked, but not so close that it roasted him alive. And the other one, the one with the black eyes and the flat look, had watched, rotating the knife in his hand over and over, the glint off the blade like the hypnotizing swing of a head shrink's pocket watch. And all the while the blond one – though not at all in control of the other two – played the leader and asked endless questions.

Finally, Jamie had relented. And now, still strung up to this auto lift in a garage, the smell of his own cooked skin heavy in his nostrils, he knew that he hadn't given up quite what they needed, or he'd be dead by now. The black look in the bald one's eyes had promised that – a delivery of death he'd relish.

Now, he watched the unsettled edge of his watcher's shoulders and worked his wrists together inside the chains. They'd made a mistake using chains instead of rope; they held fast when he strained, but if he relaxed, he'd eventually be able to work himself loose.

The rattle of the chains drew Tux's attention and he turned, brows slipping beneath his shaggy fringe of hair. "Hey, you chill out. I ain't gonna stand here and listen to you be a pain in the ass."

Jamie took note of the way his eyes avoided the red, weeping burn patches across his chest and down one arm. The skin was sculpted like a wave, angry, fleshy pink and crimson, the edges crisped black around yellow, crater-like gouges created by the torch. "I ain't gotta a problem with you, laddie," Jamie told him, not liking the way his breath wheezed in and out of his chest. "You didn't do this to me…ain't gotta be embarrassed 'bout it."

The kid glanced away, chewing his lip and not answering. That was a good sign.

"Do you think I could get somethin' to drink, boy?"

"Shut up," Tux turned angry eyes on him. "You people blew up our fuckin' clubhouse! I ain't sayin' shit to you and I sure as shit ain't gettin' you anything."

He twisted his wrists against the chain behind him. "It's pretty awful what they done to me. Don't ya think?"

The kid ground his jaw but said nothing.

The sweat on his skin gave him just enough lubrication, and he felt the chain slide just a bit. "You see," Jamie went on, effectively distracting the biker. "Somethin' tells me none of this was your idea. Am I right? Blowin' up is one thing. Happens quick. But one they done to me, well that's -,"

"Shut up!"

Tux charged forward, angry veins popping out along his neck. And Jamie used his distraction to pull one hand free.

**-O-**

Ava awoke disoriented, her head spinning. She opened her eyes, saw a flash of wood, and figured she'd fallen, or _was_ falling. She jerked and that was when she felt the solid strength of arms under her shoulders and bent knees. She was being carried. She lifted her head and found the red, blue, green and black ink work on Happy's arm. She relaxed instantly, propping her head in the crook of his elbow.

"What's…going on?" she slurred, still groggy.

He didn't answer, instead carried her the next few feet to his dorm and deposited her on the bed. Ava sat up as he crossed the room to his dresser, her eyesight and brain function sharpening as she came fully awake. Hap was emptying his pockets, his wallet and its chain, his knife clattered against the wood of the dresser. His shoulders were tense under his t-shirt and she realized he wasn't wearing his cut.

"Hap, what's the matter?" She scooted to the end of the bed and set her feet down on the floor. She noticed the bluish haze of first light was seeping through the blinds and making her skin look ghostly pale.

"You're gonna have to trust me," he said over his shoulder. His belt hissed through the loops and he coiled it around his wrist before setting it neatly beside his other personal effects.

The tiniest inkling of worry teased the back of her mind. The last she'd been aware, the boys had all been filing into the chapel yet again. She had obviously fallen asleep on the sofa, but something had transpired while she'd been fighting off nightmares of leering, Irish faces leaping out of the dark to frighten her. "I do trust you," she said, standing. "I always have…always will, Hap. You know that."

She approached him slowly, unsure if this was more of that _needing _of his, or if there was something else at play. Ava lifted her hand and let it hover a moment before she placed it in the middle of his back. The muscles beneath the cotton t-shirt were tight with stress, but jumped under her palm. She almost twitched a smile.

Hap braced his hands on the edge of the dresser and turned his head to look at her. The slowly waxing light put odd shadows across his cheeks, highlighted his darkness instead of washing him out like it did her. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he sighed. "Things are gonna get crazy, sweetheart."

When someone like Hap used words like "crazy", it usually meant something terrible was about to happen. But she sucked up the tremor that wanted to race through her body and nodded.

His eyes drilled into hers. "But I swear, I ain't gonna let _anything _bad happen to you, a'ight?"

She was thoroughly frightened now. Hap was usually fast to toss out a ",you're fine," or ",it's cool," or something quick to put her at ease before she ever got anxious. This was different; this was him feeling nervous himself and needing to reassure her before she picked up on it.

Ava leaned in closer and let her hand trail along to his side, resting her cheek against one rigid bicep. "I trust you," she repeated. "But, just…how crazy is 'crazy'?"

He opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by a knock on the door. Ava turned her head as a moment later the door opened and her mother leaned in. The whites of Maggie's eyes seemed huge and bright white in the dawn glow. She glanced at Happy, then quickly moved her gaze down to Ava.

"Babe," she started, voice trembling. "We need to -,"

"Get out."

Ava jumped and saw her mother do the same at Happy's firm, almost growled order.

Maggie tried again. "Happy, you know that -,"

"I told you to _get out_," he snapped. Ava felt a sudden, warm pressure as he moved his arm around and flattened his hand over the waistband of the boxers she wore. He pulled her back against him, looming over her, as if he was _protecting _her from her _mother_.

"Hap," Ava said carefully, trading a strange look with her mom. "What's going -,"

"You've fuckin' lost it if you think that shit'll happen," he ignored her and spoke tersely to Maggie. "You're her mom, and great, I get that, but she's not goin' there."

Maggie blinked rapidly and stared at Ava, pleading. Ava had no clue what was going on, but obviously something had been decided while she was asleep that Happy did not like. "Guys," she wrapped a hand around Hap's forearm and squeezed gently. "What's this about?"

He shook her lightly and Maggie's shock turned to anger. She scowled, brows pulling low. "She's my daughter, Hap."

"Yeah."

"And she -,"

"Out."

Ava had this sense of the world tipping sideways on its axis as she watched Maggie give her one last, lingering look and then retreat, closing the door behind her. No one had ever come between mother and daughter, no one had even tried. There was a bond there that could survive countless tears, hateful words, trials, arguments…Maggie and Ava had been a solid unit, the two of them against the world for so long, and suddenly Happy had a control over that. In claiming her, he outranked her mother.

She whirled around – sleepy, confused, reeling from what had just happened – and shoved away from him. "What…Jesus…what the _hell _is going on?"

He folded his arms and squared off from her, defiant. "Rebels MC offered us a safe house. New Mexico. Jax wants to send you, and your mom, and everybody else out there until this blow over."

She hadn't expected that. "What?"

"He thinks," he sighed heavily, rubbing at the short stubble on his chin before refolding his arms ",that it's too hard to worry about keepin' you all safe and do what we gotta do."

"What you 'gotta do'? I'm not Lyla, Hap. I know what's going on here!" she flung her arms out to encompass not just the room, but the situation at large and all the people caught in it. His face seemed to harden, if that were possible at this point. "I mean…shit…is my mom on board with this? Going to _New Mexico_?"

"Dunno. It's not my problem."

She wasn't angry with him, not really, but there was too much worry and fear building up in her like steam, that if she didn't vent some it, she'd explode. "She's my mom! It's _my _problem!"

"Stop yelling."

"I'm not!"

He was quick when he moved for her, his hands clamping around her upper arms so hard she thought she'd bruise. "Get a hold of yourself," he ordered, shaking her lightly.

Ava turned her head away from him and took a deep breath. Her throat felt tight, about to close up on her, her muscles quivering with nervous energy. And at the same time she was tired, so very tired, physically, but mentally too. Since that heart-wrenching morning at the doctor's office, her whole world had been spinning crazy fast and out of control. She'd had a baby, lost the baby, he loved her, had defended her, and now shit was being blown up and her family was going to New Mexico…it was too much to take in all at once. In the past week, she'd lived through more anxiety than most girls did in their entire lifetimes.

"Shit," she muttered. "What does this mean? Where…" she glanced back at his face and all its dark, sinister planes in the early morning glow. "What are you telling me?"

"I don't want you to worry about any of this, a'ight?" he inclined his head, searching for an agreement. "You're gonna stay here with me, whatever happens, and I'll handle the rest."

This was one of those areas in which she shared something with Tara. How was she supposed to not worry? Of course she wouldn't interfere with club business or demand to know anything she wasn't privy to. But her past history with the Irish meant she already knew too much; just enough to make her fear for his life.

She nodded, because that's what good Old Ladies did. Happy nodded along with her for a moment, and then his hands left her arms and circled around her back, pulling her to him. When he kissed her, she could feel the worry in him too; that little bit of ferocity that stress seemed to heighten in him. She wondered briefly if they'd ever have sex that wasn't the result of a crisis or some forbidden spark of lust that couldn't be extinguished. One of these days, she wanted him to fuck her for fun, and not for fear.

**-O-**

She was tall, but so lean she would seem fragile. And though her physical strength was downright laughable, Hap loved it when she got into it. He had her up on the dresser again, between her knees, his hands, and hell, arms, under the baggy shirt she wore, touching her back, tracing her ribs, squeezing her tits. And she pawed at him; her arms draped around his neck as she dug her fingers into the flat of his shoulder and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down even harder into their already ardent kiss.

Her nympho tendencies were a better distraction than booze. That would serve him well in the future; when he was hard in off the road and looking for a soft displacement of his left over adrenaline, she'd be there to take that away. And here he was thinking in the future tense? Down the line? Yeah. She wasn't going anywhere. He'd make sure of that, starting with this Irish business.

She was making the most delicious little panting sounds each time his tongue retreated when there was another knock on the door. He growled and she surged at the vibrations it sent through her lips. Hap's first instinct was to open the door and deck whoever it was…possibly even if it was Maggie. But Ava had her little claws sunk in the back of his neck and he was wishing them lower, holding on for dear life as he took her to the moon and back. He moved both hands to her back and crushed her in close, intending to get one last good taste before he answered the door, when the thing opened.

Ava murmured a protest when he broke away from her and turned to glare at the intruder. Juice stood in the open doorway, momentarily stalled as he stared at them, eyes wide. "What?" Hap asked, and it seemed to get him back on track.

He shook his head. "Shit, Jax wants you. The Irishman you brought back? He escaped."

**TBC**


	38. Chapter 38

**AN: **The italicized sections below are flashbacks to the conversation that happened in church last chapter. The rest of the New Mexico discussion.

"_Everything comes 'round…no one is untouchable." _– Tara, "Seeds"

…

"I'm so sorry, guys," Tux moaned as he pulled the ice pack away from his face. Tara prodded at the bruising along his temple and cheek where the length of chain used to tie up the Irishman had whipped around his head. He winced at her gentle, gloved inspection. "Jax…" he found his President's stare in the crowd and his eyes enlarged, pleading with him. "I swear-,"

"It's okay," Jax said with genuine concern in his voice.

They'd found Tux face-down in the garage bay, unconscious, the captive gone. Happy and Tig had gone charging off after him, sure that someone in that kind of pain wouldn't be able to get far. But those damn scrappy Irish were hard to knock down – even harder to keep down – and their search had turned up empty.

Now dawn had a firm hold on the morning, its pale claws sunk deep along the horizon, shafts of yellow striking against the dusky blue. Everyone was too fucking exhausted for words and the women were effectively unsettled thanks to the story they'd been forced to give them. There was a shifting thump from overhead every so often as Juice continued his perimeter bug sweep. Unless they could prove that the clubhouse and garage were untapped by the Irish, the New Mexico story would have to be carried forward.

"_We can't keep this clubhouse safe. The Irish proved that tonight, Clay," Jax said. "I think maybe we should think about the Rebels' offer."_

_There were shocked, even disturbed looks all around. The club had relied upon outside aid in fire fights and runs before, but never for something like this. "Jackie-boy…" Chibs started and Jax shook his head._

_He leaned forward and dropped his voice to just barely above a whisper. "This room is the only one we _know _isn't bugged. I'm not sayin' we actually send anyone to New Mexico, but there's gotta be some way to use that."_

"_The Irish need to think we're going there," Opie said, catching on._

"_You thinkin' decoy?" Clay asked._

_Jax gave a little facial shrug. "No, but now I am."_

_He was met by a series of nods._

"_Look, Charming isn't safe anymore. We gotta go _somewhere_, but they've gotta think we're goin' somewhere else."_

In retrospect, Hap wouldn't have had to be so harsh with Maggie…but he'd wanted her to get the hell out anyway. Damn, just coming into people's rooms and shit? Who did she think she was?

The doc rubbed something that smelled of menthol onto Tux's face that made him wince and lean away from her. His face was red and raw where the chain had not just struck, but had split his skin in places. He was going to have a mother of a headache.

Hap caught Tig looking at him and retuned his blank expression. Having the Irishman escape was a problem. A big one. They had enough to worry about – setting up the most elaborate ruse they'd possibly ever concocted – and now they had a loose string out there dangling, threatening to unravel them all. Opie and Bobby had ridden to St. Thomas in the hopes that the asshole had been forced to seek medical attention, but so far, they hadn't called with any positive results. Everyone around the room looked as if they wanted to throttle Tux, but that wasn't going to bring the Irishman back.

Half-leaning, half-laying across the bar, Ava looked ready to collapse with fatigue. The younger children were asleep, but she was still gamely fighting to stay awake. He'd intended to tell her about New Mexico, feed her the same line about a safe house the other guys had given their own women. But when it came time, he couldn't bring himself to tell her that. He had said something sufficient in case there were unseen ears listening, but he couldn't frighten her with another separation. Because they weren't going to be separated.

"_We'll have to have a car for the kids," Opie reminded, tapping the ash off his smoke._

_Jax nodded. "Yeah. And my guess is Tara won't be too keen on the whole riding with someone else thing. And then…" he glanced down the table at Clay, who nodded._

"_I'll go with the girls. Gem and I can drive the station wagon," he volunteered._

"_Going to the clubhouse down there will be a dead giveaway, man," Tig was shaking his head. "Can't just roll into Fresno and have the same shit happen down there."_

_Jax smirked. "They won't go to the clubhouse. Juice, you still got contact with Brian who owns that bar down there?"_

_He nodded. "Yeah."_

"_Call him. Tell him he's got twenty-four hours to make it look like a major charity ride's comin' into town. He needs to get in all the bikes he can." He waited for another nod and then scanned the table. "And I think we oughta have a few guys ride plainclothes."_

"_No one'll suspect a buncha weekend road warriors," Chibs agreed, almost smiling. _

"_Exactly."_

Juice returned, trudging in through the front door like he wanted to collapse. He shook his head – no bugs that he could find. That still didn't mean anything. It would be best not to talk out loud about any of their shit.

Jax sighed and nodded. "You guys," he aimed a finger at the five women still on their feet ", go get some sleep. There's nothing else we can do right now."

**-O-**

Ava was never one for daytime naps. And she had assumed that she'd be too fretful over all that had and was going to occur to be able to sleep now. But she realized she'd drifted off when a warm arm stole around her and crushed her back against something solid. She blinked at the mid morning sun that was streaming through the cracked blinds and inhaled deeply, the smell of Hap's cologne, aftershave and smoke strong in her nose. "What time is it?" she asked.

He ignored her and moved even closer, which concerned her a bit because Hap wasn't a cuddly sort. He let her lay all over him if she wanted, but hugging in bed wasn't up there on his list of ways to show affection. Then she felt the soft brush of his lips against her ear.

"Don't freak out about New Mexico," his whisper was rough, rougher even than his speaking voice. "I can't tell you about it yet, but don't worry."

She wasn't sure why he'd whispered it instead of just saying it, but she didn't press him further. It eased her mind though, just a little. And as he rolled away, she felt sleep pulling her under again.

**-O-**

"I gotta say, Prez, I'm impressed."

Every time Clay used his title like that, Jax had the sense of being degraded. Even if the words were complimentary, the tone was not. But that was just Clay, wasn't it? So self-assured in his history, his leadership that he didn't have doubts the way Jax did. And boy did he have doubts. About a lot of things. But, strangely, this current scheme was solid and unblemished in his mind. He had thought, for the past twenty-four hours, that there was no answer. Everything was pushing in on him, squeezing him, all the voices around him like the pressured walls of a vortex, spinning him until he thought he'd just corkscrew down into the dirt. It was at moments of chaos like that when something always snapped in his head. Clarity came and left him with white hot convictions about things that he couldn't change. As he'd outline his plan at the table, he'd known it was irrevocable. Once he said it aloud, it would become like law, and it would happen.

"Thanks," he said dryly, sipping his coffee.

The morning air was sharp, biting almost, and a welcome change from the stuffiness inside the clubhouse. They may have been sitting targets out on the picnic table, but it was getting to the point that any further precautions would be ludicrous. They couldn't allow themselves to fold in completely out of fear.

"You know," Clay went on, voice different now. "Sometimes, in my retirement," he chuckled ", I think back on things that could've gone…differently."

Jax nodded. He did the same.

"This thing we're about to do? It ain't gonna be one of those things."

**-O-**

"Fuck! Watch what yer doin'!" Jamie startled at the touch of the iodine soaked cloth against his chest.

"Quit bein' a bitch," his friend returned, scowling as he tried again to address the wound.

Jamie hadn't gone far. When he'd managed to get loose from the Sons, he'd only made it a block before he'd collapsed, scooting backwards on his hands and ass into a dark alcove of a closed shop. He'd sat, his burns oozing, everything in his body feeling raw and exposed. He hurt. His fucking eyes had hurt. Parts of him that hadn't connected with the torch just throbbed. He'd rested, adjusted the halves of his shirt and squeezed out silent tears at the gentle brush of cotton over his ruined flesh. Then he'd managed to get to a pay phone.

Now Tommy attempted to dress his wounds in the bathtub of a motel room. He knew, from the look on the other man's face, that his situation looked bleak.

"I'll tell ya this," he panted as the iodine wrap was draped over his shoulder. "Those assholes ain't gonna get the drop on me again."

**-O-**

Tacoma rolled in at five that evening. "Hey, bro," Hap greeted, pulling Kozik into a fast embrace, both their slaps loud on leather-covered backs.

When he pulled away, the blond Sgt at Arms sighed wearily. He didn't have to say that the incident up north had shaken him – all of them – pretty badly. Hap knocked him with a sideways fist on the shoulder. "C'mon, Prez is waiting."

Glen had stayed behind with the Washington President, but Koz and the rest of the charter had come down at Jax's request. And though they were no doubt exhausted, some of them would have to hit the road again tonight. Jax didn't want to delay the decoy too long.

Hap walked them into the chapel; Lorca, Deacon, Sparky, and Koz. They'd taken a hit; down Moose, Max and Bully.

Jax was in his seat, smoking. "Take a seat, boys," he swept an arm towards the empty chairs around him. He shot Hap a nod and the Nomad left the President to download them, closing the chapel doors behind him as he left.

**-O-**

Ava slept longer than she'd intended; much longer. It was almost six in the evening when she finally stirred from a dreamless, death-like sleep. She was still tired though, her body felt heavy, which was quite a feat seeing as how she hadn't eaten in the past sixteen hours. She could have snuggled down in the sheets and just stared at the ceiling for awhile, but that felt selfish and wasteful given the current situation. She dressed – Hap had lugged in two duffels crammed with her clothes – in skinny jeans and a tight long sleeve tee, thick boot socks, and went down the hall to see if she could be of any use.

The common room was considerably more crowded than it had been earlier. She spotted Koz and a few of the Tacoma members whose names she couldn't remember and started to head for their table when a hand on her arm stopped her. It was Jax and he nodded back toward the chapel.

"Talk to you a sec?"

"In the chapel?" she asked, frowning. She'd maybe been in there twice, and both times, none of the guys had been present.

"Yeah, c'mon," he hooked his arm through hers and towed her along, between Tig and her dad who looked at them knowingly.

Inside the meeting room, the women stood around the redwood table. Tara was fiddling with the little brass studs along the top of a chair. Lyla toyed with a strand of hair and looked, except for her wide eyes, much calmer than she must have felt. So far, though, the producer had proved pretty unflappable.

Jax withdrew his arm and nudged her lightly between her shoulder blades, sending her forward. Ava sidled up to her mother, looking at her sideways, half afraid she'd be miffed about the whole _get out _incident. But Maggie bumped shoulders with her and gave her a sideways little smirk. She was okay. She probably hated Happy, but she and her girl were still alright.

Jax pulled the doors to with a click and moved around to stand at the head of the table. He braced his hands on the back of his chair, but didn't volunteer to sit. The women remained standing as well.

A little thrill tingled up Ava's spine. It felt a little forbidden to be in the chapel like this, all the females in the most testosterone-filled room in the clubhouse. It was painfully formal and therefore important, as if whatever Jax was about to tell them was rare and secret. Gemma stood to one side of her son, her hands on her hips, staring at him expectantly as if she'd done this before. Maggie likewise seemed at ease. Tara and Lyla returned Ava's anxious little glances though, both of them unsure of the reason for being here.

"The chapel is clean," Jax said quietly. "What I say here can't leave this room."

Ava nodded and watched the others do the same.

"None of you are going to New Mexico…"

**-O-**

"I talked to McGee's guy Craig," Juice said as he tossed his duffel into the back of the black club van. The shaved sides of his head picked up the red glare coming off the taillights as he faced Jax again. "Jimmy left day before yesterday. He's guessing he'll come to port in Oakland."

"A'ight," Jax nodded. "You'll be runnin' the SOA switchboard on the way?"

"Definitely, man. Lorca's driving so I'll be reachable."

The night air out in the lot pulsed with the rumble of engines. Mayday, Luther, Wizard and Sparky sat ready on their bikes. The van was running. The goal was for the decoy to head out during evening rush hour, as loud and obnoxious as possible, an effective distraction headed for New Mexico and the clubhouse full of Rebels who waited to give the Irish a proper greeting.

Jax felt himself taking a deep breath, the air he drew in heavy with exhaust. This was the first step of their plan. And even if it was necessary, it felt a little like sending some of their best boys to slaughter.

"Be careful," he told Juice, not caring that he sounded like a concerned parent.

The intelligence officer nodded, his face taking on that serious edge it got every so often. "You got it."

He slammed the rear doors of the van and walked around to the passenger side. When he was in, Lorca headed for the gate, the four bikes revving loudly as they followed.

Jax sighed. "Here we go."

**-O-**

They were going to Fresno. Jax had sent a decoy van/bike convoy to New Mexico and she was going to be smuggled down to a fake bike rally so the Fresno charter could keep an eye on everything while Jax, her father, Tig, Opie and Bobby went off to execute… well…they hadn't told her, but she could guess. Gemma and Clay would take the kids, Tara and Lyla in the old club station wagon and Piney's ancient Cadillac. Ava would ride down with Hap, her mother with Koz, Deacon and Tux bringing up the rear. They would space it all out so they didn't look conspicuous. The whole plan was terrifying; a great big terrifying relief that the boys were so smart, but still so at risk.

It was the next afternoon, the decoy having left the night before, and Ava watched Clay and Gemma leave the lot in their cars, the first wave of the Fresno trip now underway. The others who were going on the hunt were already gone, having left at first light. Now Ava waited, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket and just…waiting. Until it was their turn to head out.

Across the parking lot, Happy and Koz were using strips of magnetic vehicle signs they'd painted black to cover the airbrush detail on their bikes. Happy's little "Reaper of Death" declaration on the rear fender would expose him as a one-percenter and not some casual biker.

"You girls all ready for the road trip?" Piney wheezed behind her.

Ava turned and saw her mother do the same, both of them smiling at the old man. He was staying behind to man HQ in Charming, expecting a few Oregon boys down later to assist.

"As we'll ever be," Maggie said.

Ava nodded and returned her attention to Happy and the smooth way he pressed the magnets onto the fuel tank of his bike. "It'll be fine," she heard Piney say. "We've seen worse. We'll make it."

She tightened the gray scarf she'd borrowed from her dad around her neck, praying he was right. Between Jimmy O and this crazy plan, they were far from guaranteed success.

**-O-**

Ava dampened a paper towel under the faucet and dabbed at the dark smear on her cheek. She grimaced. "You know, anyone who thinks bikes are glamorous should take a bug to the face sometime."

Maggie chuckled beside her at the neighboring sink as she rinsed her sunglasses. "You should try riding with Koz. He rides that damn double yellow line and every time we pass a car he has to swerve over. I think I'm gonna have _another _heart attack before we get to Fresno."

It wasn't the farthest Ava had ever been on a bike – Fresno was a little less than two hundred miles south of Charming. And the weather was great, she had her arms wrapped around Happy…but it wasn't a fun trip. It was a flight seeking refuge and it felt like one. Every car they passed on the road had her hackles rising, worrying her paranoia into something like a constant, buzzing, low level panic.

Maggie and Koz were keeping a good quarter mile ahead of them on the roads. Safety in numbers wasn't really the theme of this expedition. If they were ambushed, it only meant two bikes instead of one involved in a crash. They'd stopped for gas and a bathroom break together, though, and just standing there in the smelly truck stop restroom with her mother helped ease some of the tension that was flowing like blood through her veins.

Too soon, it became apparent that she'd wiped all the bug guts off her cheek and was now just smearing her blush around. It was time to go. With a sigh, she chucked the paper towel in the trash and glanced over at her mom.

"We should get on the road again," Maggie said, looking as twisted as Ava felt.

"Yeah."

The guys were outside, sitting on their bikes and sucking down fast cigarettes while they waited. The parking lot was bustling with activity – big rigs, work trucks and vans, families in their SUVs and sedans all loaded down with more shit than they needed for a vacation. In their plainclothes and sitting astride bikes that had been carefully blacked out with magnets, Hap and Koz looked like two Harley enthusiasts on a trip with their women.

"C'mon, slow-asses," Koz grumbled as he ditched his cigarette to the pavement.

Happy was silent as Ava slipped her shades back on and accepted the helmet he offered. She watched Maggie get settled behind Koz and make a face as she put her arms around his waist. The two of them got along…well enough that Ava didn't suspect they'd ever fucked.

"We'll see you out there," Koz said loudly over the growl of his bike starting up.

Hap nodded.

The Tacoma Sgt at Arms twisted the throttle and pulled away from the curb, leaving them behind. Ava watched as they left the lot and took the slow loop-around back up to the highway. She felt Hap's fingers flicking at her thigh as Koz and her mother pulled just out of sight and she snapped back to her own responsibilities. She slid onto the bitch seat behind him, snug between his back and the bedroll that was bundled up on the fender. He had saddle bags too, all the more to further the illusion of a casual couple headed to a bike rally.

Ava winced as her Glock dug into her back and she reached to adjust the gun that was wedged tight in the waistband of her jeans. Happy had insisted she carry, but so far, the 9mm had only served as a nuisance.

The biked came to life under her and she wound her arms tightly around his waist, her chin on his shoulder, and took a deep breath, settling herself for the rest of the ride; Glock, bedroll, saddle bags, terror and all.

It was a brilliant, bright autumn day and the sun struck all the little reflective chips in the asphalt, setting the road to glittering. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue and it was cool enough that she felt the bite of the wind through her jeans and leather jacket. Hap was in a plain hooded sweatshirt and she burrowed her face into the soft cotton against the cold burn of the air rushing across her face. He wasn't racing down the long, flat two-lane because that would have drawn suspicion. They were settled at a good sixty-five, Kozik and Maggie a dark speck on the horizon, close enough to see if anything went wrong, far enough to not be a two-for-one target.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been riding before she saw the car in the rearview mirror. She had been lulled by the growl and steady vibrations of the bike, the way the constant little tremors raced through her and him and were shared and swapped, and was starting to feel one of the calm, waking bike 'naps' coming on. And then she leaned over his shoulder and caught the indigo grill of a car running right up behind them.

Ava twisted her head around as Hap dipped the bike closer to the edge of the road. It was a Mustang, tricked out with one of those body kits that belonged on a Honda, and it was gaining on them, faster and faster, so close but the tinted windows kept her from seeing the driver.

"Hap!" she said, knowing he likely couldn't hear her. God, what if the Irish had picked up some supped up number they could use to chase them down. What if this was like that time four years ago when she and Maggie had been trying to leave Charming and the Charger had come rushing up on them? Only this time, there was no truck to play Demolition Derby. There were two ways Happy could handle this. Ava tightened her hold around him, sure she was choking him, and prayed he made the right choice.

Hap squeezed the brake and she felt the bike shift to a slower pace just as the Mustang took off. The driver cut it over into the other lane, its engine roaring, and took off around them. It fishtailed and fought for purchase at the sudden acceleration, but finally locked on and surged forward like a shot, gone just as quickly as it had come upon them.

Happy had slowed his bike to some kind of scooter speed, allowing the idiot in the Mustang to go on and get the hell out of the way. He lingered at that speed a moment, one hand dropping off the handlebars and settling on her knee. _You okay?_

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder as she nodded so he could feel the movement. "Yeah," she said over the growl of the engine. He met her gaze through the mirror, his eyes cutting through the lenses of their shades, and that's when Ava saw the van.

"Oh, shit…"

The white Ford work van was on them before either of them realized it; the grumble of the bike and the Doppler Effect making it impossible to hear its approach. Hap cranked the throttle, opened her up, but the van was already past them, flying along, swerving back into the lane in front of them. They weren't on the interstate. This road didn't see that much traffic – the Mustang was the first close encounter they'd had all afternoon. This wasn't a coincidence.

Ava expected Happy to gun the Dyna and leap-frog the van. But when he hung back, she realized he wasn't going to take that risk; not with her anyway. Panic welled up in her chest, tears pricked in her eyes, and that was before the arm leaned out of the open driver's side window. The afternoon sun caught a glare on something metallic, and then something whizzed past her head, parting the air in a fast hiss.

A bullet. Someone was shooting at them.

Happy ducked the bike further right, trying to get out of the line of fire, and slowed. _Oh God, oh God, oh God…_Ava grabbed a fistful of his sweatshirt and clung to him. She shut her eyes. _Oh please, oh God…_

Pain blossomed, right along the very outside of her bicep, as if she'd been stung by an angry hornet. Her eyes popped open as the bike dipped drunkenly, swerved. Hap's arms shook on the grips, his whole body shuddered inside her arms, and the bike made another crazy dive. "Hap! Jesus…Happy!"

Ahead, she saw the glare of sun on clean white paint as the van slammed on the brakes and swung hard left, blocking the lane in front of them. She screamed…and then the world turned inisde out.

Suddenly the bike was sideways and the smooth, forward-rolling motion of the tires was replaced by a jarring skid. She tipped over and the pavement came closer and closer and closer on her left side…and then Hap's hand was over hers and he was…_prying _her fingers loose and then…

All the air left her in a rush as she landed on the pavement. She rolled, over and over. One shoulder. _Crack! _The back of her helmet. The other shoulder. Her knees felt like they caught fire. _Shit! _Over and over she rolled, the Glock biting into her spine, the pavement ripping her clothes and burning the flesh beneath. She couldn't see; up was down and down was up, so she closed her eyes and curled in on herself, praying to just fucking stop rolling. Her bee sting throbbed and her left shoulder felt as though it had been struck with a sledge hammer and every inch of her body just _hurt_. Why couldn't she…

She landed flat on her back and stayed there, no longer rolling. Her eyes fluttered open and the sky was too blue, too bright. Ava started to roll again, this time on her own, and her body screamed at her to stop, to just lie still, because everything inside her was broken. But as her head turned, she saw the van, the men climbing out of it, and Happy – lifeless and half under his toppled bike.

The pain fell away. She staggered to her feet, legs not working properly, stumbling and going down on her ruined knees once, but there was no pain. The men – the Irishmen – were going towards Happy, guns drawn. Neither of them looked at her. Both of them were after her man. Her Happy! _No, no, no, no, motherfucking no! _Not him. They weren't going to take him from her, not like this, not now. She loved him. She loved him too much to wait. Too much to do nothing. These men, these motherfucking, son-of-a-bitching assholes hadn't fucked up her life enough, now they wanted her Happy.

Her right hand went to her back and her fingers curled tightly around the butt of the Glock. As it left her waistband, something seemed to possess her arm; an assuredness that belied all her previous encounters with weapons. Her eyes never left her man as she reached to pull back the slide. For some reason, her left arm wouldn't work, so she clenched the muzzle of the gun between her bloody knees and used her good arm.

Then she was raising again, her arm lifting as if animated and acting on its own. Her thumb found the safety and switched it off. Her left arm wouldn't lift to aid in the support, but she knew she wouldn't need it. She was too sure now. Rippling with this positive energy, this absolute knowledge of her ability like she'd never before experienced.

Juice's words came back to her. _"You gotta own it. The target's what you need to hurt and the gun lets you do it."_

She squeezed the trigger…and then just kept squeezing. The staccato _crack, crack, crack _punched through the afternoon and Ava get kept going, sights trained on those two Irish assholes.

Just as suddenly as she'd started, the _cracks _changed to _click, click, click _because she'd emptied the entire clip and was out of ammo. Someone was screaming; this high-pitched, inhuman, banshee war scream, and she realized it was her.

The Irishmen were down. She walked forward, empty gun still trained on their still forms, her shaky legs taking her quickly towards her targets. They were dead. Both of them. One was wrapped in bandages beneath the open throat of his shirt, angry red skin peeking from beneath the gauze. Whatever his ailment, it didn't hurt him anymore. Ava stood, breathing in slow, even draws, brain refusing to compute what she'd done.

Something made a sound beside her. She turned, and then she saw Happy.

**-O-**

Some punk-ass in a Mustang had come racing up on Koz and as he'd cursed the little shit, he'd seen the white square on the horizon in his mirror, and had known something was wrong. There was too much moving, swerving and shit, and the little dark shape that was Hap's bike had disappeared.

So he'd doubled back, earning a bunch of panicked clawing from Maggie and shouted questions he ignored. As he neared, he realized the white work van was sideways in the road, still, and the bottom seemed to fall out of his stomach. _Oh, shit._

There was little to any traffic on this stretch of highway and he ground his bike to a halt in the middle of the road, barely getting his kickstand out before he was leaping off of it.

"Hey!" Maggie called after him.

"Stay," he told her, drawing his gun as he sidled up to the front of the van. Koz didn't see anyone through the windshield, so he edged around the nose of the vehicle, gun ready, and was shocked by what he saw.

Ava was a bloody, torn mess. Still in her helmet. She had her back to the side of the van, her folded legs in her tattered jeans wedged under Hap's back. His brother was obviously unconscious, a splash of red staining his sweatshirt, still straddling his bike even though it was on its side. Koz cringed to think about the condition of his left leg, mangled and trapped beneath his Dyna. And beside him, riddled with bullet holes, were the two men who'd been in the van. Dead.

"Holy fuck…" Koz took a step forward and that was when he realized who had done the shooting.

He halted when Ava lifted a nine mil and aimed it at his chest. Something about her little dark eyes was badly wrong. Her lips pulled off her teeth in an animal snarl. "Don't touch him." She leaned forward, covering Hap's body with her own and extended her gun arm, daring him to step closer.

It should have been comical, the feeble attempt at protecting the killer, but instead it was staggering. Koz had seen this sort of thing before; that kind of shock in a person. He would have expected a crumbling, tear-soaked mess of a girl, distraught over what she'd just done. Instead, he found a fierce mother lion over her wounded cub, heedless of her own injuries, ready to shoot anyone, even an old friend, if he dared touch what was precious to her.

"Ava, sweetheart," Koz held up his empty palms for her inspection. "It's me, Little Bit. Koz. Remember?"

She nodded slowly, but didn't lower the gun. Her eyes swept down to Hap's chest, tracking the shallow rise and fall of each labored breath. "Koz?" she sounded confused almost. "He's hurt…he's hurt bad."

"I know," he took a step forward while she was distracted. "Let me help, huh? Let me take a look at him." She nodded. "Can you put the gun down, kiddo?"

She looked at him, again with that glassy, dreamy detachment.

"Ava!" Maggie called. Koz cursed as she came around the van behind him.

"I thought I told you to -,"

"Oh God," Maggie gasped. "Ava, baby, oh _shit._"

The girl's eyes shifted towards her mother and just like that, she came back, brown irises clouding with tears, little shoulders shaking. "Mom," she choked out, letting her gun arm fall limp. She cradled Hap's head into her lap as Maggie went to them. "Mom…oh…I just…"

"Shhh, you're alright," Maggie said, her own voice strangled.

Koz looked down at the dead Irishmen as he dialed 9-1-1, trying to decide how to get the bodies and the van moved before fire rescue arrived.

**TBC**


	39. Chapter 39

Tig closed his cell and stared at it a moment. This was neither the time, nor the place to dump a whole bunch of shit on the guys, but they were looking at him, curious, and he couldn't very well not tell anyone…Jax at the very least. "Jax," he tilted his head back towards the other side of the dumpster they were all grouped around. They were waiting for a phone call anyway, they could spare a second for something this important.

The President followed him, frowning, and shot a furtive look further down the alley. "What?" he asked when they were safely away from the others.

"That was Koz," Tig said, shaking his head. He still couldn't quite believe it. "Irish jumped 'em on the way down. Everyone's still breathing…for now…but, they took Hap down."

"Wha…is he…? Shit, what about Ava? Was she with him?"

"They're at the hospital. No word on Hap yet. But, man, the guy we worked over was one of the ones and the girl? She took 'em out."

Jax was already wide-eyed and looked a little breathless, but if it were possible, his eyes bugged even more at that particular revelation. "_Ava_?"

Tig nodded. "Hap tossed her loose before he laid the bike down. There were two guys and Koz says she capped 'em both."

"Jesus Christ," the President wiped a hand down his chin. "A'ight, they okay at the hospital? Koz got it covered?"

"Yeah."

"'Kay. _Do not _tell Chibs about this until the shit is done."

As if on cue, the prepay in Tig's back pocket rang. "This is it," he said checking the number.

Jax nodded. "Let's do it."

**-O-**

Dislocated left shoulder. Abrasions to both knees, forearms, hands. Fractured pinky finger. Laceration on her right arm – the product of the shot that had punched straight through Happy's shoulder. Ava had gotten off light.

The hospital staff wasn't so lucky though. Dr. Thompson urged one of the nurses to the side and put his own hands on Ava's shoulders, pinning her back against the bed. "Ma'am," he glanced over his shoulder at Maggie, little blue eyes wide behind the lenses of his glasses. "If your daughter doesn't settle down, I'm going to have to sedate her."

Ava struggled against his hold, trying again to sit up, her dislocated shoulder twisted at an unnatural angle. "Why won't anyone tell me what's going on with him?" she shouted.

Maggie stepped forward and put a hand on her daughter's shin. She squeezed. "Babe, you gotta let them patch you up, a'ight? They won't tell us shit about Hap if we act like crazy people."

Ava stared at her a moment, her chest fluttering under her hospital gown. Maggie wanted to throttle one of these dumbass doctors. Happy had been whisked away and they wouldn't tell them anything, not even offering a hopeful reassurance or a smile. Ava, though no longer all Stallone with the gun, still wasn't quite back to normal. Her eyes flicked over towards the doctor, then back to Maggie. Finally, she swallowed and nodded.

Maggie gave her a tight smile and started rubbing easy circles on her leg. A nurse came forward at the doctor's beckoning and held Ava still while the doctor lifted her left arm up over her head. She didn't make a sound when they popped her shoulder into place. Her face was blank, just dead, and Maggie's chest hurt at the knowledge that, should they not be able to get Hap patched up, she'd stay that way.

Afterward, they put her arm in a sling and brought her a little paper cup of pain meds. Ava was like a robot as the nurse checked the ointment and bandages on her other scrapes one last time. "She's ready to be discharged," the chunky blond told Maggie with a false smile. All the staff involved seemed terribly disapproving of the little girl who'd been involved in a motorcycle accident. "I'll go get the paperwork ready."

"Thanks," Maggie returned the rote politeness and finally exhaled when the door was shut behind them. She went over to the chair beside the bed and sank into it wearily. Nothing she could ask about how Ava was feeling felt appropriate, so she reached up and laid a hand over her daughter's free hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.

Ava squeezed back tightly, until her already pale knuckles were white. She was scraped raw all over; her long, thin fingers, her arms and legs, even the very tip of her little snip of a nose was rubbed to an angry red.

It had taken a long time to be seen by a doctor. Happy, unconscious and potentially bleeding out from a shoulder shot that had hit a little too far south to be harmless, had been triaged and taken straight to surgery. That and his leg. Damn, his leg was a mess. She hadn't said anything because of Ava, but she wasn't sure if they'd be able to restore full mobility to the thing.

Tux and Deacon hadn't been too far behind them on the highway and had readily agreed to ditch the van and bodies, but that still left Hap with a gunshot wound. And every one of those that came into the ER resulted in a call to the police. Maggie had sat beside her daughter, holding her quaking body, enraged that she hadn't even been given some pain meds until she could be seen, and helped her endure the cops' questions.

What happened to the car? Could you describe the driver? A Mustang, you said? No motive?

"Mom?" Ava's fingers curled up so tight, squeezing Maggie's until it was painful, but she didn't dare pull away.

"What, babe?"

She stared down at her bare toes, and probably the mess of red road rash all over her knees and thighs. "I don't feel bad. What I did…I keep thinking I'll start to feel guilty…but I don't. Not even a little bit." She glanced up and met Maggie's gaze, her eyes starting to fill with tears. "I'm so worried about him. What if he…what if…"

"Hey." Maggie stood and cradled her scuffed cheek with the hand that wasn't being clenched in a death grip. She flicked her thumb over her daughter's tears, fighting her own. "You _saved _him. Don't you dare feel bad about what you did and don't get all weepy on me now, okay? I don't know anyone as tough as Happy, not even your daddy. He's going to be _okay_."

Ava nodded and closed her eyes. Maggie leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. "You did what you had to for your family. It isn't easy. It isn't fun. But we damn sure don't feel guilty about protecting the people we love."

"I know."

"We're gonna come out on the other side of this. All of us."

Again, she nodded.

The door opened with a little rush and the nurse returned, clipboard in hand. "If I can just get you to sign these, Ms. Lawson."

Maggie pulled away from Ava and put her business face back on. "She's eighteen, she needs to sign them herself," she clarified. "And can she get something to wear? We're gonna be here for awhile."

**-O-**

"Jackson. Filip. Boys." Jimmy didn't seem the least bit surprised to see them. Disappointed, sure, but not caught unawares. He had no doubt been able to hear the gun fight on the floor below a la _Smokin' Aces_, and had assumed the worst. He was right of course.

Jax ignored the greeting, stepping over the felled body of the guard into the Irishman's suite. It had taken some kind of bartering to get some intel out of Laroy's cousin the dock worker. And then Tig had worked his magic to get the hotel location and finally, a little bump to the receptionist to get the room number. Now, covered in the blood of other men, Jax felt something like the mental equivalent of an approaching orgasm as he finally set his eyes on the crisp gray suit and neatly gelled hair of James O'Phelan.

"Fiona with you?" he asked curtly, using the muzzle of his gun to indicate the rest of the room.

"No." Jimmy stuffed his hands casually in his pockets. "She and Kerianne are wintering in London." Well away from the prying eyes of the Belfast charter of the Sons. He tilted his head, smiled, flashed his sharp white canines. "You come to cut the head off the snake, yeah?"

Jax grinned as well. "Yeah. Somethin' like that." He looked over his shoulder and nodded, signaling Chibs to enter. The Scotsman was already cracking his knuckles, a strange light dancing around in his eyes.

Jax spared the IRA leader one last look. "It's been real, Jimmy." Then he turned to his brother, drawing the bowie knife from the leather sheath at his hip. "Here." He pressed the hilt into Chibs' hand, earning a grateful smile in return. "Make it good, bro."

Jax went for the door without a backwards look.

Tig loomed in the doorway and nodded, eyes locked on the two men still in the suite. "I'll make sure," he said ", that it gets done."

**-O-**

After identifying themselves as the "Morales family", they had been escorted to a private waiting room off the trauma ward. A nurse had informed the three of them that Hap's bleeding had been stopped and the shoulder gun shot wound was contained. He had been sedated and taken for a myriad of tests; CT scan, X-Ray, and several Ava couldn't remember, let alone pronounce.

She was wearing a pair of scrubs the hospital had offered up at Maggie's request, her arm in a sling. Even doped up and woozy on oxy, she was one big pulsing bruise. And she was so tired. But she didn't dare shut her eyes and fall asleep. Worrying about Hap kept her juiced enough to stay awake, though she leaned heavily to the side, Koz not complaining as she used him for a pillow.

"Baby," Maggie said gently. "Why don't you lie down? We'll wake you if -,"

"No."

And to further her point, a doctor in blue scrubs and a white coat pushed through the doors into the waiting room. She was tall, solid, could have been in the WNBA in another life and wore no makeup, her hair tied up in a businesslike knot. Her eyes found the three of them almost instantly, as if she'd known that no one else could have been with the tattooed man besides the _other _tattooed man. The suburbanites sitting around them must have looked too tame.

"Are you Sam Morales' family?" she asked, talking in that hurried, physicians' tone that Tara always adopted.

"We are," Maggie answered, drawing the doc's attention.

"I'm Doctor Friedman," she extended a hand that Maggie shook. "I'm afraid we've found some significant damage to your husband's left leg, as I'm sure you're already aware."

"Oh," Maggie put a hand on Ava's thigh ", he's not my husband. "If you want permission for anything, talk to this one. He's hers."

To her credit, Dr. Friedman only recoiled a little, then quickly changed gears and fixed Ava with her official stare-down. "You are…"

"Ava."

"Okay, Ava, here's what's going on. When the bike fell on Sam's le -,"

"Happy. His name is Happy."

"Ava," Maggie nudged her lightly in warning.

"His leg was crushed between the bike and the pavement," Dr. Friedman went on, unfazed. "The sliding, though, twisted it. He has multiple leg fractures and significant damage to the knee. Then there's the GSW to the shoulder which caused a lot of bleeding and significant muscles tearing, but should heal with proper dressing and antibiotics. He was wearing his helmet, but we did detect some slight swelling on the CT scan that indicates a concussion."

Even drugged up, Ava registered the significance of the injuries. One alone would have been bad enough…but all together... "What…" her voice shook too badly to continue. She took a deep breath. "What can you do for that?"

"Well, the road rash and contusions we can treat easily. The concussion is fairly significant, but again, treatable with pain meds and careful monitoring. But I'd like to do surgery to set his leg." The doctor gave her a moment. "With permission, of course."

Hap had always been unbreakable in her eyes, stronger than anyone else she knew. And now he was unconscious somewhere beyond those double doors, broken in more ways than one. "Do whatever you have to," she told Dr. Friedman. "Fix him."

**-O-**

Maggie was relieved to hear the doctor's spiel. Hap was fucked up, no doubt, but so far, everything sounded treatable. Ava was torn up about it, but Maggie was starting to feel pretty sure that he'd pull through all of this. Of course, there was no guarantee how quickly, if ever, he would return to riding. But watching Ava chew at the already ragged nails of her free hand, she figured a gimpy, couch-bound Happy would be just as wonderful as the original for her girl.

Her phone buzzed to life in her bag, startling her, and she stood to take the call outside the waiting room. Ava darted a panicked look which she tried to soothe with a smile. "Stay here with Koz, I'll be right back."

The Tacoma enforcer nodded his agreement and put an arm around the girl's chair, mindful of her newly-set shoulder. "We're cool. Go on."

Her Blackberry had gone silent by the time she made it out to the hall. Maggie flattened herself against the wall, avoiding a passing cart full of bed pans and fresh sheets, and gulped when she saw Chibs' name at the top of her missed call list. She hit redial and waited.

The voice that greeted her on the other end of the line was so cheerful, the accent was the only thing that kept her believing it was him. "Hey, sweetheart! You okay? You make it to Fresno?"

"Um…" she debated telling him anything until she knew the source of this exuberant mood. "What's going on?"

"Oh…baby…" his voice caught for a moment. "It's done. It's all done."

"It's…" her heart started hammering excitedly. "You mean…?"

"We're comin' home, luv. And you ain't gotta worry about a thing anymore."

She thought her knees might give out. _Done _meant that Jimmy was gone. And likewise his reign of terror over all of their lives. Maggie started to tell him how wonderful that was and just ended up sighing into the phone, unable to form words.

"You okay? The trip alright?"

And just like that her mood was clouded over with the present situation. "Have you talked to Jax? Something happened, Chibs. There was an incident on the way to Fresno."

**-O-**

He didn't look like himself in the hospital bed, the gown with the little blue squiggles on it. Always so richly tan, his half Mexican heritage wasn't so apparent now, the fluorescent lights and probable blood loss washing him to a sickly grayish hue. Bandages covered the road rash on his forearms. Thick gauze pads held down with self adhesive medical wrap covered the gun shot wound on his left shoulder. And then there was his leg. His poor, fucked up leg. He was in a hip-to-toe cast, a sling holding the mangled limb off the bed.

Ava had waited so long, fighting sleep and her own aches and pains, not willing to close her eyes until she had seen Hap safely on the other side of surgery and in a room. Now, seeing him, the damage felt all the more staggering than it had out on the highway, a brilliant sky overhead and the smell of burnt rubber heavy in her nose. She wanted to faint. No, wait…she _was _fainting.

Arms caught her from behind as she sagged – Kozik – and he picked her up in a fireman's carry, tired of her protests that she was fine. Ava didn't try to fight him off this time. She couldn't stand anymore and was ready to admit to that.

After four hours in various waiting rooms, the nursing staff in this wing of the hospital had figured out that the rag-tag trio of biker people wasn't going anywhere, least of all the beat up teenager. Behind them, Ava heard someone say they were going to ", get her a recliner," and sighed internally with relief.

"Is he asleep, or unconscious?" Ava asked tentatively, not able to take her eyes off Happy.

"Asleep," Koz said with confidence. "Look at all the kick-ass drugs they're pumping into him. Dude's on the high of his life."

She glanced over at the IV beside his bed and nodded.

And then, even if he was an asshole most of the time and he didn't get along with half of his brothers, Koz did the most wonderful thing and stepped right up next to the bed, close enough that she could have reached out and touched Hap. And she did, her eyes burning as she stretched her good arm down and brushed her thumb lightly across his forehead. "I'm sorry, baby," she murmured, too broken up to recognize that it was the first time she'd ever called him anything besides "Happy".

**-O-**

Maggie had warned him, and he'd dwelled on it the whole way to the hospital where they'd been taken, but Chibs wasn't ready to see his daughter in her current condition. She was a mess of scrapes and bruises, her left arm in a sling. Someone had brought in a recliner for her and she had it fully reclined, the foot rest extended, curled up asleep and facing the battered Nomad.

Chibs settled into the room's little plastic chair and braced his elbows on his knees, the weight of the day settling over him finally now that he could see Ava and connect the story with the visual proof of it all. His little girl had taken out two Irishmen, had turned into something feral and murderous for the man who lay unconscious in front of him now. And considering his afternoon, he could find nothing but pride welling up at that knowledge.

Comparing the injuries of the two, Chibs realized that Happy had known he was going down, and had thrown Ava free before she could get trapped under the bike. That little act of foresight and sacrifice was the only reason the girl was sitting in a recliner, discharged, and not in a bed alongside him. He loved her. He really did. He would never be Mr. White Knight in shining armor, never the man that paid attention to holidays and did all those normal, tame couples things; candles and rose petals and shit. But Hap loved that girl and sometimes, throwing a person off a bike was more amazing than any bouquet of flowers or romantic string of words.

He heard the door open behind him and knew the light rap of boots belonged to Maggie. He was thankful for the solid, grounding contact of her arms circling around his neck from behind.

"Remember how I said there was a lot of Scotty dog in that one?" she said quietly. He nodded. "There still is."

"Christ, I wish…shit, we shoulda never sent you down here. This shouldn't a happened."

"She's not the one who needed saving this time."

"Aye." He closed a grateful hand over Maggie's, content, even if he had paternal guilt and worry over what had almost occured. "Soon as he wakes up, we're signin' him out. I wanna take them home."

**TBC**


	40. Chapter 40

**AN: **There's more club stuff next chapter, but this is just fun. I'm no doubt stretching certain…abilities…this soon after their little bike spill, but I couldn't seem to keep from writing it this way. If it's too inaccurate or stupid, I apologize. Maybe I'll take it down.

…

**Two Weeks Since the Accident**

At moments of crisis, when it felt like the entire world was crumbling apart and the club was to blame, the club always came swooping back in and again proved that Happy didn't need the outside world. Even though he hadn't ventured anywhere save for the couch – and that had been a struggle – though he hated being an invalid, he had this enormous family hell bent on reminding him how soon he'd be "back in the saddle" and back to maximum performance. The club, whatever else it was, was his family. And he lived and died – had almost died, actually – for that family. And his current situation was made slightly less sucky thanks to his personal nursemaid.

For some reason, Hap had always had this sexy doctor-patient fantasy. He had _Penthouse _to thank for that, but he'd sort of wondered if it was true. Well, it wasn't.

That damn hospital had been all beeping machines and cold, gloved hands poking at him, asking if it hurt. _Of course it fucking hurts, you dumb bitch! It's broken in fifteen-thousand fucking places! _It had reeked of disinfectant and drugs and diseased people. And with the sedation, he hated to admit to himself that he'd gotten a little panicked. The last time he'd spent any real time in a hospital was when his mom had passed, and that certainly wasn't a cherished memory.

Now though, propped up on pillows in Ava's bed, in Ava's room, staring at the little free-base hi-def TV Juice had hooked up on her desk, it wasn't so bad. Ava knelt beside him on the bed, her little fingers gently and deftly repacking his shoulder wound. He could feel her slim little fingertips dipping into the bullet hole, smearing ointment so, so much more carefully than those damn hospital people. Better than her dad too. Chibs was a medic and all, had walked Ava through the process the first time, but man's hands weren't made for delicate little tasks like this. No, Ava was good at this. The best, actually. Her little brows pulled together and she stared with such concentration as she packed the wound once more with clean cotton and then settled another bandage over it.

Happy had been surprised when, at the hospital, he'd finally arrived at some sort of conscious state and all the guys had been there, Chibs' voice the loudest as he told the docs that he was signing him out AMA and taking him back to Charming. And instead of being taken back to the clubhouse and dropped in his dorm, Maggie and Chibs had brought him home with them.

He rolled his head sideways so he could watch her as she tore the medical tape in little strips and sealed the edged of the gauze pad with them. Her road rash had diminished greatly over the past two weeks, now just a dark, raised peppering of scabs here and there. His had been worse. A lot of the intricate ink work on his arms had been destroyed.

"You need to wear that sling," he reminded her.

Ava rolled her eyes as she smoothed the last bit of tape. "Please. I'm not doing anything to dislocate it again."

It bugged him though. The first chance he got, he was planning on cranking those pretty little arms over her head and fucking her until they were both delirious. But that plan wouldn't serve if her shoulder came popping out of the fucking socket again. Yeah, he wanted to explain that one at the emergency room. _"You see, doc, I like to hold her down…"_

Fucking was definitely not on his to-do list at the moment. On top of the sheets, that huge, bulky cast mocked him in multiple ways. He couldn't ride, couldn't walk for God's sakes. Couldn't roll that amazing little girl under him and show her how goddamn proud of her he was. Showers consisted of sitting on the edge of the tub and using a mildly soapy washcloth, mindful of his raw skin. Ava usually helped him, went back and forth to the sink, wetting the cloth again.

Part of him hated for her to see him this way. He was the one who was supposed to do the protecting, the caring, even though he wasn't too great with the latter. But there would have been a whole different kind of shame involved if one of his brothers had been waiting on him and doctoring him. Ava did all of it without question or protest, or anything less than complete devotion. She kept track of his pills and was ready, at the top of the hour every time, with a glass of water and all his meds. She'd offered to shave his head for him, but that made him feel like just too much of a pussy, so he had the shortest little bristling of hair now. Ava had brushed her palm across it and said she liked it, but wouldn't be sad to see it go eventually.

She stood, stowing all the dirty gauze and bloody cotton into a plastic shopping bag and tied it off. She climbed off the bed and started picking up the empty water glass and the plate from breakfast, ready to make one of her few trips down the hall to the kitchen. She hadn't left the house since they'd arrived two weeks ago. Her daily life consisted of taking care of him and scratching away in that notebook of hers. The girl wrote like it was some kind of compulsive addiction, never speaking about any of it, just writing, sitting next to him, the scratch of her pen the only sound.

"You need anything while I'm up?" Ava asked, heading for the door.

"Nah," he shook his head.

Hap sighed when she was gone. How could she do this? How could she just stay here in this room with him? Asking if he needed anything, seeing him like this, all weak and immobile. Bruises and burns he could soldier through, but this cast, this motherfucking _cast _kept him from everything he wanted to do. When Koz had come in to see him at the hospital, he'd been grinning from ear to ear when he talked about Ava taking out those two Irish bastards. His girl, his delicate Ava had put her shooting lesson to good use. She'd been so brave, fighting through her own injuries…killing for him. Juice had called her _a little killing machine_. She was. Shit, his girl had _killed _for him. And if that wasn't some kind of sign from the beyond, he didn't know what was.

Knowing that about her, knowing what she was capable of tapping into in defense of her family, was the biggest turn on. He wanted her in the shower. On her knees on the floor, carpet leaving rubs on her naked skin. Under him and on top of him and up against the wall and he just wanted to fuck her so bad. Until she was too far gone to beg anymore and just screamed like an animal. Wanted his hands all tangled up in her hair while she took him down her throat…though, as excited as he was going to be, he might strangle her while she was blowing him. He just wanted, needed, to reaffirm his place with her, and likewise show her how much she meant to him in the best way he knew how.

But he was wearing this stupid motherfucking cast. And with his shoulder the way it was, he could barely make it down the hall on crutches to the bathroom.

Frustrated with not a thing to do about it, he reached for the remote, and his eyes landed on the blue, spiral bound notebook that held whatever the hell it was Ava spent all that time writing about. Did he dare? Shit, what if it was some kind of girly, diary shit?

Curiosity and boredom got the best of him though, and he watched the door for signs of her return as he pulled the notebook across the rumpled sheets towards him. The first page was dated and his lip curled when he realized this must be a diary. He read the first line anyway, though, and then the next. And the one after that. It wasn't a diary.

**-O-**

Maggie was in the kitchen, at the table going through the legitimate family checkbook – Chibs being in charge of the _other _financials. She had, much to Ava's relief, taken time off from the garage, Gemma filling in for her, so she could be home and help with Happy if need be. Ava took great pride in her new doctoring abilities, but sometimes, she just needed an outlet for all the jumbled stuff running through her head, and she couldn't unload that shit on Hap. So her mother had been a Godsend.

"Hey, babe," Maggie greeted without looking up from her register, ticking off the check numbers and the corresponding amounts.

"Hey," Ava heard herself sigh as she set the plate and glass on the counter. She didn't miss her mom's look as she trashed the plastic bag and its grisly contents.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah." But she found herself sinking down into a chair at the table.

"You look so fine what with the delightfully cheerful expression on your face," Maggie said with a chuckle. She slid her checkbook off to the side. "So, aside from the fact that you're not wearing your sling, you delinquent, what's wrong?"

She ignored the sling comment and fiddled with the gold ring dangling around her neck. She'd put it on a new chain, a longer one, so that it rested over her heart. She felt guilty for her thoughts, but knew that just as the brotherhood code was solid between the guys, the girls likewise had their own confidentiality clause. Anything she told her mother would end with her.

"I want…I mean…" she frowned, for once at a loss of ways to describe what she was feeling. Maggie was looking at her sympathetically and drew courage from her expression. "It's not a bother to me taking care of him, I swear it isn't. I'd do anything for him."

"I think you proved that," Maggie said quietly.

"I don't even know how to be more relieved than I am that he's alive and on the mend and he's home. It's just that I…I want him."

"Wow. I really have been a bad influence, huh?"

Ava made a face. "No, not like that. Well…yes, like that…but that's not what I mean. It frightens me," she admitted ", seeing him laid up like this. After everything, all that happened, I wanted to be with him, I wanted to…I dunno, reassure myself or something? He's always been invincible and now…"

"It scares you to see him vulnerable," Maggie supplied, nodding as if she understood. "When something like this happens, all you want to do is have them love the hell out of you, and when they can't, it makes you start to fret about things."

Ava sighed, this time with relief. "Does that make me selfish?"

"No, baby. Hell, when your dad got blown up, ugh, that's just, I thought I would go crazy. Something like this isn't easy for anybody. You're doing an amazing job, sweetheart."

"Have you ever noticed," Ava went on ", now that his hair is coming in, that he's got some gray in it? Shit, has his chin scruff always had that little bit of salt in it? He's getting older, Mom!"

She coughed a laugh. "And you wanna trade in for a younger model?"

"No!" Ava rubbed at the headache she felt coming on, her shoulder protesting slightly. "He's…" she started to shout and realized that was ridiculous. "He's not made out of steel. And he won't be around forever."

Maggie sighed. "I know."

"Right now, it's like I need to know how strong he is. I need him to…want him to…"

"Fuck you into a coma?"

"Exactly."

Maggie shook her head, smiling. "Be patient, it'll come. And when it does? Holy shit you better be up to speed with your physical therapy."

Ava felt the heat rise in her cheeks, but smiled. There were probably plenty of mothers and daughters who couldn't have this conversation, but they didn't belong to that group. Life was too short and too hard to be shy about something like sex.

"You know," Maggie's smile became wicked. "Just because he's laid up, doesn't mean he can't still feel like the man." She chuckled. "Check those prescription bottles first. Don't wanna give him a heart attack."

**Three Weeks Since the Accident**

Just two days before Thanksgiving the market had been packed shoulder-to-shoulder with shoppers after their pre-fab stuffing and yams in a can. After much begging from Maggie and a grumbled assurance from Hap that he was fine on the couch, Ava had agreed to go along. Now, tired from shoving her way through the throngs of disgruntled customers, Ava would be glad to sit and watch TV with Happy for a while. He seemed to have improved greatly in the past week – all but the leg at least.

"Hey, Hap, I…" she trailed off as she rounded the corner into the living room and found the couch empty. She shouldn't have, but she started to worry as she headed towards the hallway.

"Where'd he go?" Maggie asked after her.

"Dunno. Let me check."

She checked her bedroom first and breathed a little sigh of relief to find him sitting up against his mound of pillows, staring listlessly at the TV. He was wearing a pair of those break-away track pants since they could be unsnapped down the sides and fit over his cast, but was shirtless and Ava could tell he'd redressed his shoulder himself.

"Hey." She entered and shut the door behind her. "Everything alright?"

He spared her a fast glance. "Yeah."

Ava approached the bed, frowning slightly when she saw her blue notebook on the sheets next to him. She was pretty sure she'd left it on the nightstand. She returned it to its normal place as she sat beside him. "I could have done your shoulder when I got back," she said. "You didn't have to do it."

He gave a little facial shrug. "It's about closed up. I can do it fine."

Ava sighed. This was a new thing over the past few days. He'd become moody, not really angry, but just flat and monosyllabic with his answers. She was starting to feel a little cagey herself, but at least she could walk worth a shit. He just gimped around on his crutches.

Ava stretched out beside him, not sure of she should touch him or not. She'd rolled over onto him the night before and he'd pushed her back over to the other side of the bed. It had been more hurtful than she'd thought – it felt like taking emotional steps backwards.

"What's wrong?" she tried softly. "And don't give me that 'nothing' routine because I know it's not true."

He shot her a sideways scowl. "It's nothing."

She groaned. This was of course about his leg and the fact that he'd been bed or couch-bound for three weeks. His body was healing all over, his bruises fading and aches receding, Tara had even talked him into another CT scan that had allayed all their fears about the concussion, but his leg was still a major problem. And worst of all, there was no guarantee that when the cast came off he'd be back to normal.

"Well, can you at least tell me whether or not you're mad at me?"

"You know I'm not," she said with a defeated sigh.

Ava stroked an idle hand down his ribs, smiling slightly when his skin shuddered under her fingers. Her conversation with Maggie came back to her. She _did _want him. There was this inexplicable need to consummate their ordeal somehow, to remind him, and herself, that not only would they sacrifice for each other, but could take the other's affections as well. That and ever since she'd gone rolling across the pavement, she'd wanted to feel him strong and able-bodied above her.

"_Just because he's laid up, it doesn't mean he can't still feel like the man."_

Maybe…she frowned. Surely he wouldn't try to push her off if she gave him a hand job. And what was the likelihood he'd have some sort of freak aneurism? He wasn't taking his pain meds the way he should have, hence all the grumpiness and lack of naps. No, so long as she didn't mess with that leg, he could handle a little action. The idea warmed to her the more she toyed with it. It would be immensely gratifying to feel him pulsing, hard and strong in her palm. To see the masculine, ferocious way physical pleasure consumed him. The man was an animal, and he fucked like one.

Mental images of him on top of her, pounding inside her, so big, so strong had a warm tingling stirring up in the pit of her stomach. She was tired of thinking about how fragile he was as a human, and wanted to be reminded of how virile he was as her MC hit man. And damn, she loved the feel of his skin on her hands.

Before he could catch on to her attentions, she flattened her hand and slid it down over his six-pack, delving beneath the waistband of his sweats. He shifted on the mattress as her fingers found his cock.

Soft at first, she felt him slowly begin to stir at her touch. She moved her hand leisurely for awhile, stroking him gently. He hadn't protested her actions, but there was a note of warning in his voice when he spoke. "Ava, what're you gettin' at?" She closed her hand around the thick base of his cock and moved down the length of him. His sigh was more of a growl and she watched his abs clench beneath his skin. "Shit, baby, I didn't wanna have to cut my own goddamn cast off to fuck you."

Ava turned her head to look at him and a welcome little shiver went down her spine. His eyes looked black, his jaw clenched and rigid. He looked ferocious, ready to pounce on her, cast be damned, and that was exactly what she'd been wanting out of him. "You don't have to do a thing," she told him. "_I'm_ gonna fuck _you_."

He was still a moment, the air positively crackling with electricity. Ava remembered, before all the shit had gone down, that she'd wanted a chance for them to just fuck however, whenever they wanted; no stress, no scrutiny. That urge returned. She wanted him to…

She nearly gasped when he grinned at her. It was a slow, nasty smile, one that promised all sorts of slow, nasty things that would make her toes curl. "Really? That's what you're gonna do?"

"Hell fucking yes."

She tightened her fist around his hardening cock, working him up to a massive hard-on just like he'd taught her. She felt him lifting up off the mattress and put her elbow against his hip. "Your leg," she reminded before she leaned down to put her mouth on his stomach.

Ava wasn't sure if Hap would ever be patient enough to let this kind of teasing foreplay go on, but right now, immobile, he couldn't do anything about it. She heard him hiss as her hand continued to work his cock and she licked her way across the tats on his ribbed belly. Jesus, he was fine. And he was so hard, all over, his muscles, and the throbbing organ in her hand. She loved him, physically, emotionally, and to think she'd almost lost him, to imagine that…Christ…she just…just…

She pulled her mouth off of him, gasping as she sucked in air. She was squeezing her legs together, so worked up and excited that she writhed with wanting him. This had been a bad idea. A really bad one.

"Hey," he called as she pulled her hand from his sweatpants and vaulted off the bed. "What the hell?"

Her intention had been to go down the hall, maybe take a shower, cool off for a moment, but instead she started stripping her clothes off in a hasty rush, cringing when her still-tender shoulder protested. "Does anything hurt?" she asked, wriggling out of her jeans. "Anything besides your leg? Your ribs okay? Shit, am I gonna hurt you if -,"

"Shit no," he said emphatically. As she stepped out of her panties she realized he was grinning again, his bare chest heaving. "You don't weigh a goddamn thing. Get over here."

She was back on the bed and crawling to him in an instant, pushing down the elastic waist of his track pants and straddling his hips. "Is your leg alright?" she asked frantically. She took his cock in her hand, lining them up, but waited, suspended above him. "I don't want to -,"

"_Get on_."

She sat down on him hard, harder than she'd intended, gasping at the way her body took him inside. "Oh…_shit_." He was so _big_. He filled her all the way up, reached places she'd never known existed deep inside her body. Their bodies kissed, every inch of him enveloped in that tight, hot place that craved him so badly. The shock of the union stunned her to stillness a moment, had her leaning forward to brace her hands on his chest.

But as clarity of thought returned, she winced. "Hap, don't let me hurt you," she said, imploring him with her eyes. "Your shoulder…" she flicked her gaze to the bullet hole that was now covered with just a regular, Johnson & Johnson band-aid.

His left hand reached up and grabbed a tangled hold in her hair, crushed her mouth down to his. His tongue stroked hers until she couldn't breathe and they were both panting when he pushed her back. "You can't hurt me," he rasped, voice strained. His eyes glittered, truly alive for the first time since the fall. He put both hands on her ass, fingers digging into her hard, wounded shoulder flexing and proving its use. "You're gonna have to do the work, but shit, sweetheart, you ain't gonna hurt me."

He nodded until she was nodding along with her, and then she felt his hips start to lift under her. "No!" she said quickly, grinding back against him. "Do not move."

"Ooh, yes ma'am," he chuckled, actually _laughed_. He smacked her ass. "Giddy up."

**-O-**

Either in her haste, or because her shoulder hurt, she hadn't taken her bra off. It was all she wore; this black and white lacey, push-up thing that made her tits look fucking fantastic with his ring dangling between them. As she started moving, he was glad she'd left it on.

Ava was too slow at first, just rolling her hips in little circles, her hands on his stomach as she worked his cock in this easy, tantalizing pace. She was so tight though, even just this much movement was delicious. He wanted more, though. Wanted to slam her on her back and drill into her…but that couldn't happen. Not with his leg. Feeling another smile tug at his lips, he did the next best thing; thrust his hips a little off the bed. It hurt the shit out of his leg, using it for leverage that way, but it worked.

Her eyes, shut as she rode him at her own little pace, snapped open. "You have to stop that," her voice was thick, low.

"Whacha gonna do about it?"

Her dark eyes narrowed, and then she leaned forward, low over his body, her tits threatening to come tumbling out of the flimsy little bra. She rocked back, lifting her hips off of him, and then back down again, taking all of his cock once more. Her nails dug into the skin of his chest as she repeated the move, this time lingering, grinding hard against him, getting the friction she wanted.

Happy squeezed her ass, encouraging. "Yeah. Just like that." This time, when he tried to move under her, she sat up, planted both palms on his chest and glared at him. And then she rode him like he hadn't thought possible.

It was a struggle to keep still, to let her take the reins. But take them she did. Ava worked up and down frantically on him, breathing in hard, desperate draws, her hair black where it clung to her damp neck and shoulders. Her face was flushed, her lips pink, gorgeous reared back above him. She clawed at him. Reached a hand between them every so often to touch herself. And he was going to cum like a fucking geyser. Fuck that they hadn't bothered with a condom, just fuck that. He didn't want there to be anything between them. He'd deal with it if he knocked her up, really he would, because it was too heady a rush to know that each time he came inside of her, he left a little bit of himself behind.

"God…Jesus…God_damn_…" She was getting close. Really close. Holding her clinging hair off her face and giving him a fabulous view of all those rolling, taut muscles in her flat stomach as she worked him harder and faster and harder still.

And then, her body convulsed and she came with a breathy, choked cry that she didn't try to muffle. Hap was already gone, his whole body seized up, straining, waiting, and her spasms triggered his own release, her little lazy hip swivel on the comedown sending him over the edge.

"Oh…ow. So good," she murmured as he emptied inside of her. She had to be already sensitive but loving the slightest bit of contact on her frayed nerves.

Happy was just…happy…as she lifted off of him and then carefully settled in beside him, one little arm draped over his chest. Spent and tired, he was surprised by the sensation that swelled in his chest. Yes, he now had a head rush that had nothing to do with orgasm and everything to do with overdoing it. And sure, it wasn't just his leg that ached all over from the exertions. But that wasn't what made him short of breath all of a sudden.

He rolled his head to the side, watching her lashes flutter dreamily as she tried to catch her breath. He lifted his arm over and around her and she gratefully snuggled into the new position, her head on his chest. He could give her whatever kind of sappy, cuddly bullshit she wanted after something like that. It didn't take much to thank her.

And that was when he realized what he was feeling. Gratitude. Gratitude that she understood him the way she did, that the poor little thing was just as horny as him and was willing to make it work anyway she could. No demure, hesitant bitch for him. He liked his little nympho too much. She was such a good girl, taking care of him like this.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked. It was laughable – all he'd endured and she thought what, a hundred pound girl was going to set his recovery back?

He kept his laugh to himself and kissed the top of her head. "Fucking perfect."

**-O-**

_Good for you, girl _Maggie thought to herself with a smile as she finished putting up the groceries. She wasn't sure she would have been brave enough to make that much noise in her parents' house, but however those two had figured out how to make "it" work with the cast and bandages and all that, more power to them.

She heard a key in the backdoor and realized it was Chibs. "Shit!" She hurried to meet him before he could come inside. He might be cool with Happy as of late, but he wouldn't exactly want to hear his daughter getting off.

"Hey, babe!" she greeted brightly, shoving him back out the door. Chibs looked confused and opened his mouth to protest, so she cut him off. "Come look at this ding on my windshield. You just will not believe the rock that hit me the other day."

**TBC**


	41. Chapter 41

**AN: **I'm so sorry, guys! I've started back to school and I'm afraid my updates might not be as quick. And this was just the chapter that didn't want to be written, so much thanks to Angie (Angiepie on this site) for helping me brainstorm.

This is a two-parter. Hopefully 42 will follow shortly.

…

**Thanksgiving Day**

There were many times that Ava counted herself lucky to be related to Gemma Teller-Morrow…holidays not being among those days. "Damn," she hissed, yanking her scalded thumb away from the hot casserole dish she'd just pulled from the oven.

"Put some aloe on it," the Queen reminded.

Ordinarily, stumbling her awkward, non-culinary way through the kitchen would have put her in a sour mood, but today she was already smiling as she went to the little potted aloe plant in the window, snapped off a piece and rubbed the clear juices over her burn. She didn't want to be in here cooking, would have much preferred to be in the living room with the guys, but she was just so damn…content…that it was hard to be in a bad mood. She didn't have anywhere to go, no responsibilities for the moment except taking care of her "patient". She'd slept late, drowsy and quiet in the sheets long after she'd awakened. And then Hap's hand had gone on a scavenger hunt down the length of her body.

"What're you smilin' at?" Gemma asked as she strolled lazily back to the stove, still smiling like an idiot.

She heard her mother chuckle from the sink. "She's just so 'Happy', huh?"

"That goin' okay?" Gemma asked. "He and Chibs gettin' along at the house like that?"

For the first time in the year since Hap had first crossed the line, Ava was able to nod with confidence. Now that Happy was more active, actually came into the kitchen for dinner and everything, he and Chibs appeared to be completely back to normal. Old friends and brothers again without any of the heated looks or little digs. Happy had never been as close to Chibs as he was some of the others, but she wondered if that wouldn't start to change just a little bit. The night before, the two of them had ended up on the couch, watching football and talking club shit.

"It's like somebody flipped a switch," Maggie said. "They talk and smoke and act like nothing's changed."

"Good."

"Hey, when's your lovely daughter-in-law going to get here?"

Gemma sighed and Ava tried not to laugh as she sprinkled cheese over the broccoli casserole before sliding it back into the oven. Jax and Tara were the last to arrive at these sorts of functions, even later than Opie and Lyla who tended to come dragging in after the last of the single guys.

"Oh," Maggie continued. The knife she was using on the cheese thumped loudly against the cutting board. "Speaking of people who can't get with the program…" Ava turned around and faced her mother when she heard her voice change to something almost apologetic. "Ava, you know how your grandmother's been in Chicago?"

She nodded, not liking where this was going. Diane had been visiting a niece during all the Irish drama, safely away and thankfully not involved with any of the lockdown scenarios.

"Well, um, I tried to get out of it, but she's coming to dinner tonight."

Gemma made an unhappy sound in the back of her throat. "She gonna be a bitch and ruin my party?"

"It was her idea to come," Maggie said with a shrug. "I guess she's willing to play nice."

Ava frowned. She loved her grandmother, she did, but Diane had never, not in eighteen years, come to terms with Maggie's biker family. She was always turning up her nose and handing out snide remarks. She wasn't shy about her disapproval of Chibs.

Maggie was still looking at her from across the kitchen's center island, knife poised and waiting for something. _So? _Ava thought. She might make Maggie's life hell, but Diane was all about her granddaughter, she…

Ava gasped as the consequences of such a simple little thing began to sink in. "Oh shit. _Grammie's coming_?"

Maggie nodded, smiling wryly. "Yep."

"Oh shit."

"What?" Gemma turned to look between the two of them, realization dawning. "Oh…she doesn't know about Hap yet, does she?"

Ava shook her head, feeling the color drain out of her face.

The Queen chuckled. "This'll be _fun_."

**-O-**

"You hear anything about Fiona yet?" Clay asked, keeping his voice low and unheard by the rest of the room.

Chibs had plopped down next to the former President to bum a light, and now sighed. At the other end of the sofa, Happy, Juice and Bobby were conversing loudly about something, but Tig was just to his left and was waiting for an answer, just like Clay. "No. Belfast looked, but she and Kerianne are in the wind. No signs of either of 'em."

Clay took a thoughtful drag on his cigar. "Well, you _did _kill her Ol' Man, whadya expect?"

Chibs couldn't help but laugh at that, just a little. Tig chuckled too. It couldn't be helped – there had been nothing to do besides take Jimmy out, and boy had he taken him out – but he wondered if maybe, possibly, he could have done something for his estranged wife and daughter. Kerianne likely didn't even know who he was anymore. And now, after five years of settling, he didn't want to jeopardize what he had with Maggie, certainly not what he had with Ava. He at least had one daughter he'd watched blossom into adulthood. Still…

He shook his head. "It's alright."

Clay nodded and then tipped his head slightly towards the far end of the leather sectional. "How's the home front?"

Chibs glanced across the room at Happy. He had his bum leg propped up on an ottoman, crutches leaned against the sofa next to him within easy reach. "Makin' the best of it." He shrugged. "I gave up. Maggie's 'put her foot down' -," the other guys chuckled ", - and I think Ava might put a fuckin' bullet in me if I told her 'no' at this point."

"Goddamn," Clay muttered. He aimed the neck of his beer bottle toward the open plantation shutters that separated kitchen from living room. Through the brown slats, Ava could be seen attempting to help her mother slice up vegetables for the roasting pan. "You think they're all cute and innocent…and then they start blowin' people's heads off."

"I dunno," Tig grinned. "That might be the cutest thing she's ever done."

**-O-**

"What did the docs say?" Bobby asked.

Happy shrugged, keeping the disgust from his placid expression. He'd gone the day before to see the orthopedist at St. Thomas and the prognosis had been sketchy at best. "Gotta wait till the cast comes off," he took another swig of beer to dull the pain of that statement. They'd told him he might have to wear some kind of brace for ninety days afterwards. Ninety days…that was three months without riding or working or doing any of the normal things MC guys did.

He glared down at the offensive limb, just lying there on Gemma's ottoman, useless and costing him a real place within the club until it could mend. He couldn't even wear jeans for God's sakes, stuck with these basketball sweats. He felt a bit like a sideshow freak, sitting here, just…sitting. He would have ordinarily enjoyed this relaxed TV and big dinner afternoon, would anyway, but he wanted to do it whole, not as a broken crash test dummy with crutches and red smears on his forearms where all his tats had been.

"You gotta be goin' crazy," Juice said, shaking his head as if he couldn't imagine.

"Yeah."

Ava came around the corner from the kitchen, on another beer delivery, and he watched her from the corner of his eye without being too obvious. She was in boot cut jeans and heels, a black sweater with a wide, plunging V-neck. His ring. Dangly earrings. Hair pulled back in the front and loose over her shoulders, dark and smooth as polished mahogany. The sex was creative, if not downright difficult, but a distraction worlds better than TV. And it was leaving him with all these idle, wistful little thoughts about her. The way her tight jeans were always a little loose in the waist and showed a sliver of flat, white stomach above her belt. The way her nose scrunched up when she got to laughing out of control about something. Yep, he was stuck.

She handed out fresh bottles to her father, Clay and Tig, then came down to his end of the sofa. She didn't do a very convincing job of giving him the same look she gave the others. Not ever since he'd loosed the L-word on her. She didn't give him that flashy, bright grin now, but there was a noticeable smile in her eyes. That pleased, warm, happy as hell sentiment threatened to come bubbling out of her, unchecked, until she spotted the beer in his hands.

Ava halted, her hip popping out like her neck might follow through with an _mmmm, hell no _head bob, but it was just the hip. She narrowed her eyes at him. "How many have you had? You're not supposed to be drinking on top of your meds."

Bobby and Juice were staring at him, the latter open-mouthed in shock, waiting for him to react. Neither of them had ever met his mother. Neither of them had ever known him to react with anything more than a ", Fuck you, bitch," when bossed by a woman. He knew Ava's words came from a place of affection and weren't an attempt to turn overbearing housewife on him, but he wasn't just going to roll over. He was supposed to look out for her, not the other way around. And not in front of his brothers when he already felt useless enough.

"I'm not supposed to do what we did last night, either, but it didn't stop ya then, did it?" he asked, fighting a smile.

He thought she would blush or gasp or act appalled that he would dare mention something like _sex _out loud, and finally did smile when she stuck her tongue out at him instead and passed over a fresh beer. "Don't cry to me when you're in a drooling pile on the floor," she quipped with a smirk.

Juice and Bobby laughed; Ava had played it just right. She collected their empties with a grin, but an idea seemed to skitter across her face like a shadow, and her good mood shifted gears. "Oh," she said, now hesitant and careful. "My grandmother's coming today."

"Ooh," Bobby said instantly.

Ava looked at Happy, now completely unsettled and chewing at her bottom lip. "Hap, she doesn't know and her finding out would ruin the whole afternoon."

He'd had quite a few dealings with Maggie's mother in Seattle, and then again in Charming. Diane Lawson was very anti-SOA, and had always seemed to hate him in particular. The tats. The unfriendly looks. She wasn't a fan. Part of him wanted to nod and say ",okay," and make that fretful look on her face go away. But a larger part of him wanted to give the old bat the figurative finger and make out sloppily with the girl in front of her.

Hap gave her a noncommittal shrug that earned a sigh and a nod of reluctant understanding. "I'm so dead," she murmured to herself as she retreated back to the kitchen.

**-O-**

Ava was dumping the empty beer bottles in the trash when the doorbell rang. She jerked at the sound – any of the guys would have known the door was open and come in without an invitation. Which meant only one person could be at the door. She groaned.

"You wanna get that?" Maggie asked her, laughter cutting short at the chime. "You know who it is. And she likes you better than me…for now anyway. Have you talked to -,"

"Yes," Ava sighed, wiping her hands, damp with beer bottle condensation, on the legs of her jeans. "And he may or may not cooperate with that plan."

"Great," she mother rolled her eyes.

Diane was on the front stoop, a foil-wrapped plate in her hands, eyes raking over the posh, immaculate front of the two-story stucco and somehow finding fault. Ava knew it wasn't really about the house, but the people in it. The square, blocky woman with the salmon colored blazer and shiny gold lapel pin was the kind of woman who whispered rudely when she saw anyone with a tattoo in public. She didn't like wallet chains or men who wore jewelry. Thought motorcycles were loud and unseemly. Had said on numerous occasions that ", pretty girls," like Maggie and Ava shouldn't have been around such ", heathens". She wore her hair short these days and it was more gray than blond. Ava had never been able to see an ounce of Maggie in her face or thick frame.

"Hey, Grammie," Ava said, pushing the door wide and offering a hug.

Diane smiled like she had been expecting the mistress of the house and was pleasantly surprised to see her granddaughter. She moved the plate to one hand and accepted the embrace. She was scowling though when she pulled back. "Your mother told me you were in an accident," she said as she stepped into the house.

Ava followed with a defeated sigh.

**-O-**

Tux brought a date. In between trips to and from the table, in the midst of avoiding her grandmother's questions about her "accident" and Abel's demands that she come play with him, she nearly ran into a young woman she'd never seen before.

Early twenties, about 5'4" and blond, she seemed almost familiar in a distant, dream-sequence fashion. She extended mitt-covered hands in an offer to take the casserole from Ava's hands. "Let me help you," she said brightly.

Ava was stunned a moment. Not only did she have no idea who this girl was – or why she was trying to take the cornbread stuffing out of her arms – but she wasn't used to seeing someone so out of place, but so confident in this MC holiday setting.

"I got it," Ava said, carrying the dish the rest of the way into the dining room and setting it on a trivet among the others.

The girl followed; she could hear the scuff of her flats on the carpet. "I'm Danielle," she said, coming right up behind Ava so that when she turned, they were almost nose-to-nose. "Danielle Simms? My sister went to school with you, Ava."

_Whoa, bitch, put that shit in reverse. _She had this instant, violent urge to snarl at this chick. As in, flash her teeth, narrow her eyes, and growl like a cornered animal. First off, Stephanie Simms, apparently this girl's sister, had been a part of the bimbo trio that tried to make her high school years a living hell. Second, what the hell was she doing here? And she knew her name? What the fuck?

"And you're here…why?" Ava asked rudely, folding her arms and forcing the older girl to back up a step.

"Oh," she gave herself a light smack on the forehead. "Duh! I'm here with Aaron. I recognized you from around town and thought I'd come say 'hello'."

A little warning chime sounded at the back of her mind somewhere; like the little _ding _of the seatbelt signal on a plane. Her mind was telling her body to chill, reminding herself that it was too soon since the accident and she was being irrational. But it _was _too soon; too close to that near tragedy that had happened out on the highway, too soon since the Irish had infiltrated their ranks and tried to smash them like water over rocks. She was feeling far too protective of her family, this club, and her wounded man to be at all tolerant of a non-club stranger.

"How sweet of you," she finally managed to choke out. "Excuse me."

Ava went back to the kitchen and sidled up beside her mother, leaning sideways to whisper into her ear. "What the hell is with Tux bringing some random chick?"

Maggie shrugged and thrust the salad bowl into her arms. "He asked Gemma if it was okay."

"You remember that twit Stephanie I went to school with? This is her sister. And she's _following _me."

Maggie turned and so did Ava, finding said offensive sister standing in the threshold between the dining room and kitchen, staring at both of them. "Stalker much?" Maggie whispered with a chuckle. "Oh, play nice. Poor Tux needs to get laid."

"She doesn't belong here."

Maggie sighed. "Look, it's already stressful enough with your grandmother here, so don't make a thing out of this, Ava." Her tone was final and full of a rare bit of maternal authority. She softened it though with a hand on her shoulder. "You're getting too worked up. Go sit with your dude, okay?"

Ava pulled back in surprise. "But -,"

"Well don't blow him or anything, just go sit with the boys. Chill out for awhile."

**-O-**

Juice was convinced that a Crow Eater had snitched his ATM card and his recounting of the drunken tale was a nice distraction for Ava. She was able to sit on the couch between him and Happy and not draw any undue attention. Twice she realized she had her hand on Hap's thigh and pulled it away. The third time, he pressed his over hers, squeezed, then moved, telling her to just leave it this time. The warm, solid contact was relaxing and by the time Gemma called for dinner, she was feeling better.

Hap had adjusted to walking with crutches to the point that Ava didn't feel compelled to walk behind him with her arms outstretched. Which was a stupid habit anyway since, if he fell, he'd just take her with him. Still, she watched him carefully as the group moved to the long, heaping dining room table. He was fine though, getting to his chair at the foot of the table without any assistance.

"Oh, Ava," Gemma called as she settled into her chair beside Clay ", I thought you'd like to sit down at the end there." The Queen flashed her wink and Ava smiled. Since Gemma had suggested it, sitting beside Hap wouldn't look suspicious. She sat down between Hap and Piney, Juice across from her, thankfully nowhere near Diane.

And then it all went to shit when Tux came to their end of the table, the girl-who-didn't-belong trailing along behind him in her blue turtleneck and cream, bulky slacks, sliding onto the seat beside Juice, which put her catty-corner to Ava. "Ooh, goodie!" Danielle said excitedly as she stared at her from across the table. "This will give us a chance to chat."

**-O-**

Happy was positive his girl had contributed little in the kitchen; the food tasted too good. But as the dishes had been passed around, it had become obvious to him that this big-mouthed bitch Tux had brought along was going to be a problem.

"…So I know it's hard to overcome such a large age difference in a relationship like this, but I figure, if anyone can do it, I can," the new bitch was saying with this self-satisfied smile as she waved a fork between herself and Tux. Apparently, seven years was _huge _in her world. Hap didn't miss the way Ava stabbed at her mac & cheese. "You know," she went on ", I grew up helping mom at the store, so like, I'm way mature and don't think there will be any problems between Aaron and me. We're perfect for each other."

Tux, stupid little shit, was grinning and nodding at what his fuck buddy of two weeks was saying.

"Maturity," Ava said with a tight smile, reaching for her beer. "It seems you and your sister have that in common."

"Steph's very mature," new girl went on, missing the insult. "She wanted to get a Beemer, but Daddy said 'no', so she settled for a VW instead."

"Tux," Ava said levelly, giving the youngest patch holder a hard look over another sip of beer. "Where did you find Danielle?"

Hap could tell that by this point, Tux, as well as Juice, Piney and even Bobby around them had figured out what was going on. Tux looked almost nervously at Ava, then shot a glance down to Happy. _What do I do here?_

"Um…" he started when he didn't get an answer, but his date cut him off.

"Oh, it was so cute," Danielle chirped. Hap hated this girl's voice, like she was putting you down even when she was being bright and perky. "I was pumping gas and he pulled up to the pump beside me. And I was totally in love at first sight! I mean, how could I say no to a dangerous biker, right?"

Ava's smile was tense at best, and Tux put a hand on his date's arm. "Um, Dani, babe -,"

"You know," she continued ", my parents will have a _fit _when they find out that I'm with a biker. But I don't care. Mom and Dad just don't understand me and this life we lead, you know?"

The tail end of the chick's statement had been loud, loud enough that the rest of the table suddenly seemed too quiet. It wasn't as if this bitch was saying anything horribly offensive – no worse than the random, misunderstood asshole he ran into on the street – but in light of recent events, Ava wasn't swallowing this well. At all. Hap watched as she carefully set her fork down and narrowed her eyes across the table at the newcomer. Tux should have known – stupid Tux should have been aware that it wasn't far enough beyond the Irish lockdown situation to bring a stranger to their family table. Ava thought the same, but she didn't view the affront with detached disapproval. She was boiling mad, just waiting to blow.

"I know I sound crazy," the new chick said.

Shit, why did she keep talking? Could she not see the murderous look on Ava's face and just close her goddamn mouth? Hap nudged Juice hard, who nodded and leaned around the chick to thump Tux in the arm. But it was too late. And before any of them could explain the fact that outsiders didn't put down Old Ladies and get away with it, the dumb ho kept talking.

"But Aaron and I really have something," she placed a hand over one of Tux's, who now looked like he might be having a stroke. "It seems impossible, right? He's so much older and he's so…you know…bikery." _Bikery_? What the fuck? The girl smiled. "Maybe one of these days, you'll understand where I'm coming from."

"Yeah," Ava ground her jaw. "Maybe so."

"So, Ava," Juice said loudly. Hap smiled to himself. _Good boy. _"Have you decided what you're gonna do when you go back to school?"

Her smile became almost genuine, eyes softening. "I haven't quite decided yet," her voice lost some of its tension. "I like the credentials a journalism B.A. would give me, but one of my profs kept insisting I had to work for the paper staff, and I'm not thrilled about that." She made a face and Juice nodded. "I think I'm allergic to extracurricular activities."

"Paper?" the new bitch spoke up. "You write?"

Ava nodded.

"Ava's a great writer," Juice stepped in again. Hap loved to hear other people brag on his girl.

"Me too," Danielle nodded. "I'm such a good writer."

"What do you write?" Ava asked. She had her fork poised over her plate like she might reach across the table and stab her.

"Stories."

"I gathered that," Ava said, a satisfied little smirk creeping across her face for the first time. "Fiction or non-fiction?"

The older girl frowned a moment, perplexed, then finally shrugged. "Everything," she said, clearly not having a clue what Ava had been talking about. She then launched into one another self-serving monologue; this one about what an "amazing" and "awesome" writer she was. Before, it had been how perfect she was for "Aaron".

As a general rule, Happy didn't participate in snippy, bitchy banter between chicks. Until the claws started slashing and the weave flying, he didn't interfere, just let them blow off their steam. This was Ava though, _his _Ava, and seeing her annoyed just annoyed him.

"Wait…" Danielle stopped mid-spiel, mouth falling slack. "Did you say _back_ to school? Aren't you _in _school?"

For a moment, caught off guard, Ava answered honestly. "I'm taking the rest of the semester off and starting up again in the Spring."

New chick wrinkled her nose. "Oh no…that's a bad idea. Seriously? People who leave off never go back, Ava. Don't make a stupid mistake."

Ava blinked, leaning back in her chair.

"I mean, I know you're really into your gang here, but it isn't that hard to handle one of these guys _and _your life." Danielle fluffed her hair with a smirk. " I certainly can."

"Oh," Juice turned towards her for the first time, giving her that incredulous look that somehow always seemed to come across as a huge smile. "So you're, what, perfect?"

She tilted her head, nose at an angle. "For this, yes."

"It's a club," Ava choked out.

"What?" Danielle whipped her head around, blond hair flying over her shoulders. "Did you say something?"

"You said gang. It's a motorcycle _club_."

"Whatever. Same difference."

"No. It's not."

"Ava," Happy warned quietly.

Her eyes flashed to him, disbelieving.

"You know," the other girl went on. "I used to do some mentoring. If you need some help deciding which path to take, I'd be happy to help you. Help with goal-setting and priorities, stuff like that. You have to know what's important in life, Ava."

"What…what's important?" Ava sputtered. "Are you -,"

"Ava's smart," Hap said, not able to just sit there any longer. He stared a hole through the new bitch's forehead. "She's damn smart. And she could take ten years off school and still go back. Leave her alone."

"I didn't say she wasn't," she huffed, not at all interpreting his angry stare for what it was. "But she could use the advice of someone who has it all together." And then, as if she had a death wish, she wrinkled up her nose at him and asked ", who are you anyway to tell me what to do?"

Ava started to move and Piney put a big hand on her shoulder, keeping her down. Juice nearly choked on his beer. And Tux leaned over to whisper frantically into the girl's ear. Her eyes widened as she continued to stare at Happy, glancing quickly at Ava, then back, lips curving up into a disbelieving smile.

Happy was done with this. It was one thing to just be a bitch in general, but this one had suggested that his Ava was stupid. "Tux," he said in warning ", shut your bitch up before _I _shut her up."

The chick gasped, leaning back and giving him that shocked look of horror that he'd dared use the B-word in reference to her. "I see where the bad influence comes from," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough to hear.

Before he could think about what a bad idea it was, Happy levered himself up off the table with his arms, his bum leg making it difficult, slipped, and sat back down hard.

"Oh, Ava, no honey. Just no. This guy? Please. You're not old enough for that."

Alright, this stupid gash was getting slapped. Just as soon as he could get his crutches situated. But before he, or anyone else could move, Ava was in front of him, leaning over his plate, one hand on the table, the other held up threateningly as she leered at this Danielle. She was an enraged jungle cat, trim and deceptively violent under her pretty exterior, guarding him. He hadn't seen it, but he had wondered what she'd been like on the highway, how rage had twisted her features and addled her mind to a point where she was capable of shooting those two Irishmen. He knew now, watching, ashamed of his own weakness, as she glared at the girl who was insulting them.

"I'll show you manners, bitch," Ava threatened. "For starters, you hold your goddamn tongue about shit you don't understand."

She slammed her palm down on the table, beer bottles and silverware rattling. "How dare you," she hissed. "How dare you – fucking sister of one of those _bitches _– come here with _my family _and act like you know what the fuck goes on in _this life_."

The table seemed to come alive at that point; forks were lowered, Maggie pushed her chair back as if to stand, Clay frowned darkly at the disruption. Everyone started yelling for Ava to "calm down", "sit down", "chill out", but it all fell on deaf ears.

Danielle was red-faced and angry now, recovered from her shock, and opened her mouth to fire back. "I -,"

"No!" Ava shouted, silencing everyone. "You do not come in here, into my life, subject me to your braggadocios stupidity, insult me, and then insult my boyfriend!" She was shaking, trembling head to foot as she balanced over the table, still blocking him. "I let your sister treat me like shit, but when you come into _my _world, you show me some goddamn respect!"

It was silent a beat, the others poised to jump to action if need be, but now just watching. Even Maggie had returned to her seat, her face slack in something like shocked admiration.

"Or what?" Danielle finally asked.

Ava lunged.

Hap caught her around the waist with both arms as she tried to dive over the corner of the table. He pulled her down firmly into his lap, her arms flailing to be loose the whole time. "Calm down," he ordered, squeezing until she gasped for breath. She quit struggling, realizing who had her, but was pulling in big, furious gulps of air. He could only see the side of her face, but recognized the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. She cried when she was sad…and angry.

There was a flurry of activity around them – Tig helping Tux escort his date out, Maggie trying to explain Ava's admittance of "boyfriend" to her grandmother. The whole table was in an uproar, the dining room tumbling with voices all clamoring to be heard over one another.

Then Ava slid off his lap and retreated, walking around the table and towards the kitchen, head down. Above the noise, he heard the back door slam.

**-O-**

Ava knew, now as she faced the muted greens of Gemma's garden in autumn slumber, that she'd gone too far. At the table, all she had seen was red. Some stranger, someone who she'd never met, who knew nothing of MC life or her own struggles within it, had talked to her as if she were a child. The insult was painful, but it had been fear that had fueled her anger from the start. Her "stranger danger" instincts seemed on high alert since the madness of the past month. It was irrational, she knew, but she found herself worrying about Happy all the time. She had started the day so peaceful and relieved to get out of the house, but her nagging concern for him – whether he was hurting, should he be drinking, did he need her, was she hovering – and having an unknown entity in the house just heightened all of that anxiety until that same, dark, mindless fury that had gone shooting through her body on the side of the highway had returned.

Ava heard the door open and the sound of stilettos meant one of two people had come after her. She expected her mother and was surprised to find Gemma sitting down beside her on the low stone wall at the edge of the patio.

"Well," the Queen said. "I don't think anyone's gonna bring a date to Christmas now."

She groaned and rested her forehead against her curled knees. "I'm sorry I ruined dinner, Gem. I don't know what got into me."

"Really? 'Cause I sure as shit do."

Ava rolled her head to the side, catching her cousin's gaze.

Gemma twitched her a sideways smile that quickly faded. Reached forward and brushed a stray piece of hair back along the crown of her head. "You, sweetheart, are so twisted up worried about that man."

She nodded as well as she was able, knowing it was true.

"Don't get me wrong," Gemma went on. "Sometimes you gotta put a bitch in her place. And that bitch needed it."

"But?"

"But you gotta find some kinda quiet place in your head, baby. You're wound too tight."

The good thing about Gemma was that she didn't have to explain why she was "wound too tight". The Irish, school, Happy…there wasn't any room left in her conscience for even the smallest bit of grace and dignity. She wondered, as she stared out at the darkening evening, if that was some of Gemma's problem; it was too hard to be the sweet little princess when you were just trying to stay alive.

"C'mon," Gemma patted her knee. "Bobby put hash in the brownies."

**TBC**


	42. Chapter 42

**Still Thanksgiving Day…after it turned to shit**

"Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?" Diane raved. Her face was turning a lovely shade of eggplant. "You tell me my granddaughter was in a 'motorcycle accident' and then I come in here and find that…_he_…" she waved a hand back towards the dining room ", was in an 'accident' too? Do I look stupid to you, Margaret?"

Maggie rubbed at the suddenly aching spot between her eyebrows. She'd been hauled away from the table and was now enduring interrogation in the kitchen. "Well, you've been here four hours, Mom. It must not have been that damn obvious if you only just now figured it out."

"Don't get smart with me! How could you…how in the world…_boyfriend_?"

"It's more official than that."

"Oh," she scoffed. "Like that 'Old Lady' shit you preach makes a difference. Look what that asshole did to you, leaving you alone all those years!"

"That's in the past," Maggie bristled. "You don't seem to mind Chibs when he's unclogging your damn sink!"

Diane raked trembling fingers through her hair. "I should never have let you keep her down here. She shouldn't be around men like that."

"Happy -,"

"She's a child, Maggie! That girl is just a girl and he's…" she shook her head and Maggie thought she saw the glimmer of tears. "He was there at the hospital," her voice was thick. "He's old enough to be her father!"

"I know," Maggie sighed.

It would be useless to argue at this point. Diane should have been well aware by this time that her granddaughter would end up with a Son. Why would she be any different than her mother? Though, she hated now to admit that Diane had the tiniest of points. By this time, some of Maggie's youthful rebellion had worn off. When she was twenty-two, or sixteen for that matter, eighteen even, and bedding a man her mother didn't like, she had been resentful, furious that Diane wanted her to be so unhappy. But now, as a mother herself, she saw the real sentiment; worry. Worry that an innocent girl would suffer because she loved someone who would break her heart – whether purposefully or not.

"This thing with Ava and Hap, trust me, we've all been there, bitched about that," Maggie kept her voice soft, comforting. "But it's not like when I was younger. She's not trying to get a rise out of anybody. And he adores her."

"He's a _criminal_! The tattoos and the motorcycle and I just…it's not right! She's too good for this."

"Well, if it's any consolation, a lot of his ink got burned off on the pavement."

"This isn't a joke," Diane hissed. "How could you let him corrupt her like this? It's sick!"

"Enough, Mom," she sighed again. "I'm not gonna talk to you when you're like this."

"You -,"

"I said enough!" Maggie pushed off the wall, closing the gap between them, her patience finally snapping. "Ava has had a hard year. Did you see her jumping over the goddamn table in there? If anyone, _anyone_ says something unkind about Happy, she's gonna fly off the handle. You confront her about this, tell her what you're telling me, and she'll cut you out of her life. For good maybe. If you want any kind of a relationship with your granddaughter, you'll drop the Happy issue."

**-O-**

"I didn't know, man," Tux protested. "I swear. She didn't tell me she knew Ava from before."

Tig glared over the kid's shoulder to where his bitch paced around his bike, her face all screwed up with anger, muttering under her breath. Every so often, that inner cheerleader got the best of her and one word would rise above the others, a shrill squeal of "bitch" or "unbelievable". It was a shame things had turned out this way – she was kind of hot.

"Doesn't matter," he fixed Tux with another glare. "You shoulda stomped on that shit the second it got started. Dates don't get to rag on Old Ladies, dumbass."

"I know, I know," Tux scrubbed both hands through his mess of curly, chestnut hair. "Shit, I'm sorry."

Poor little idiot. He'd stumbled across a hot chick he could have all to himself, finally ready for something besides a sweetbutt. The day's events, though, were just all the more proof to Tig that sweetbutts were the way to go. "Save it," he scolded. "After you take your bitch home, you come back and apologize to Ava. If she thinks for one second that this was her fault, you'll be shittin' your own teeth for a week. We clear?"

"Yes, sir."

**-O-**

"One holiday," Clay muttered. "One dinner that doesn't turn into a goddamn episode of _Jerry Springer_. Is that too much to ask?"

Jax shrugged. "I'm just glad it ain't my woman this time."

Across the table, Tara gave him an _oh really _look.

"Sorry, babe."

Lyla was pushing her food around on her plate, shooting the occasional look over her shoulder. Maggie and Diane's voices were loud in the other room. "Should we do something?" she finally asked.

"Nah," Clay said. "They'll wear themselves out in a minute."

**-O-**

Happy wondered if he should go after Ava. But he'd seen Gemma slip out after her and chick fights definitely fell under the Queen's area of expertise. He didn't do the whole pep talk thing well.

"Never a dull moment," Piney grumbled.

Bobby grunted in the affirmative.

"What do you think…I mean…if you hadn't grabbed her," Juice posed ", what would she have done to that other chick?"

Hap snorted. "Clawed her goddamn eyes out probably." He'd meant it as a joke, but he knew there was a certain element of truth to the statement. The blank looks the guys gave him indicated they were thinking the same thing.

Up at the head of the table, Maggie and Diane returned from the kitchen, the latter glaring openly at him. "You're disgusting," she hissed through gritted teeth. "She's just a baby, you goddamn pedophile!"

Hap just returned her glare, but there was a rousing chorus of "Whoa!" from the rest of the table. _Pedophile. _No one had dared to call him that yet, but some of them had most likely thought it. It was bad enough he'd fucked her when she was seventeen. He didn't need to tell them about those vivid, wet dreams he'd started having when she was fifteen. Or that time in his dorm, that night after Zobelle had gotten away when she was thirteen, when he'd found her on his bed. She'd wanted him then, and fuck him, but touching her skin that night had done something to him, made him want shit that was illegal and amoral. _Pedophile. _No, he wasn't one. He just had no control over what he felt, what he'd always felt, for her.

"Mom!" Maggie grabbed her mother's arm, halting her charge down the side of the table. "I told you not to pull this shit."

"I am the mother and you are the child! I don't take orders from you."

"And you're a guest! And you won't fucking start _another _fight in the middle of dinner!"

"HEY!" Clay banged a fist down on the table, face twisting up when it rattled his arthritic mitt. "Both of ya, shut the hell up. It's Thanksgiving for Christ's sakes."

**-O-**

When Ava came back to the table, all seemed normal; the various conversations soft and the room full of the clink of flatware on china. She noticed though, as she walked to her seat, that her grandmother was crying over her plate.

**-O-**

After dinner and desert, when Jax and Opie had taken their families home and things had quieted down considerably, Hap went back to his seat on the couch. Clay and Tig had gone outside to catch up and swap cigars. Juice was asleep in an armchair. And Ava, tired and still upset about earlier, was curled up on her side next to him, her head resting on his good thigh.

Hap was staring mindlessly at the TV, not really caring much about the football game, and was a little surprised when Chibs came to sit on his other side. He would have figured the Scotsman was tired of all the quality bonding time they'd shared over the past weeks.

"She sleepin'?" he asked of Ava, propping his boots up on the coffee table.

"Yeah."

Chibs sighed. "Poor thing's havin' a hard time of it these days."

Hap nodded.

"She talks to her mother," he went on, dropping his voice a little ", but she won't talk about what happened. The shooting. She did what she had to, but she's not made for that, brother. She needs help and I figure there's nobody better to help her with it than you."

Happy glanced down at the sleeping girl, smoothing a hand across her silken hair. She looked so vulnerable when she slept; innocent. "She don't sleep well."

"She's a sweet girl…when she wants to be. I don't want her to lose that."

Hap didn't either. "Yeah."

**-O-**

Ava paced slowly around the room, her steps lazy, brushing out her hair as she wandered aimlessly between the door and the window. She was wearing a white camisole and a hot pink pair of those cheeky panties he loved that didn't even begin to cover her ass. Damn, she had a really nice little ass…but that wasn't the thing he was most concerned about at the moment. She had been quiet since her episode at dinner – not cold as she'd been with him pre-Iloveyou – but lost in her own head somewhere. On the sofa at Gemma's her head resting on his good leg, he'd felt the deep, unsettled sighs that rippled through her every so often. And he knew that the stupid girl Tux had brought was only the catalyst to her outburst, not the root cause.

He knew that he needed, now more than ever, to get this stupid cast off. Ava was wrestling with too much mentally, no doubt unable to find compartments for some of it. Chibs had been right; someone like her couldn't just off two guys and then go on like nothing had happened. She'd been so normal, so happy and helpful at first, but he was realizing now that her good mood had been a relief high, and that now dark things were creeping out from beneath the rocks where she'd stowed them, nagging little whispers inside her conscience. Hap needed to ease that burden for her, but unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it in a physical sense. No, this was going to have to be one of those dreaded conversational things.

It was Ava though. And if he was ever going to have to discuss emotions with a person, it could only be her.

"Ava."

Her head lifted and she came to a halt, scuffing her toes across the rug.

"Come sit down."

She came slowly, setting her brush on the dresser, folding the sheets back on her side. She looked tired, he thought, but a little wired too, eyebrows a little crooked as if she had a headache and was trying to squint it away. He recognized the tension because he'd seen it in himself a year ago, when he was battling temptation. That felt a lifetime ago now. Then, he'd been hesitant to become too involved; didn't want her caught up in his life and missing out on hers. Now she was friendless, jobless, unhappy, and carrying the weight of two deaths on her little shoulders. All those dreams of hers he'd tried to protect had been scattered – by his hand no less. It didn't matter who coached the girl – Gemma, Maggie, Chibs, Tara – he was the one who'd brought her to this place, balanced precariously between the bright young woman she'd once been, and the jaded, quick-tempered outcast who sat beside him now.

The sheets rustled softly as she pulled them over her bare knees; a shame since he wished she would sprawl on her stomach for this conversation and let him stare at her ass the whole time. She would, actually, if he asked her to. And that almost unnatural devotion would serve him well here, when he had to get her turned around. She would listen to him.

"I think we need to talk about some things," Happy began, feeling like a dumbass because he didn't do this whole dialogue thing well.

There was a little rush of air beside him – Ava gasping – and she moved around so that she knelt alongside his good thigh, facing him. Her eyes, hooded and closed off before, were suddenly wide. "Oh, God…Hap, look, I know I was stupid today. I know this isn't the best arrangement. Please, we'll find something else to do – somewhere to go. I'll quit acting like an idiot, I swear!" she said in a jumble of fast hand movements and head shakes.

"What?"

"We can go to the clubhouse if you'll like that better," she went on, taking one of his hands in both of hers, pressing his palm over her chest. She was shaking. "Tell me how to fix this and I will."

Oh shit…did she think he was calling it quits? That this was the 'it's not you, it's me' talk? "Whoa, whoa, whoa. No. Hold up, sweetheart." All of his worries about tackling this subject evaporated. She was like a child when she got this way. And the kid he could handle. "C'mere." He urged her to him, guiding her down until she lay across the width of the bed, her head in his lap, staring up at him.

"What…?" she tried, not willing to relax against him yet. "But don't you mean -,"

"No," Happy assured, meeting her gaze and tilting his head for emphasis. "I really did just wanna talk. Guess I'm no good at that, huh?"

They were still a long moment, eyes locked, looking, searching. And without him having to explain a thing, he felt the tension slip out of her body. She settled, exhaling with a slow, quiet sound, never breaking their stare. And then nodded, almost as if she knew what he wanted to ask. It felt surreal, like they were in each other's heads. And it was a dark, tricky place inside his skull, not anywhere he wanted an innocent, but was unable to keep her out. She was bone-deep under his skin and forever running through his mind.

There was no way to dance around this and say it delicately. And it wasn't as if he could fool her. So he just jumped in. "You killed two guys," he said levelly.

"For you."

He wanted to touch her. He pushed up the hem of her shirt and stroked easy little circles across the flat of her stomach. "I'm so proud of you for that."

Her smile was slow, but warm, hot enough that his insides felt all melted and gummy.

"But you shouldn't have to do that kinda shit, Ava. You're too good for that."

Her brow furrowed, smile slipping. "I'm not some princess."

"No," he agreed ", but it's my job to keep you safe. I didn't do that and now you're payin' for it."

"You _do _keep me safe," she insisted. "You've always kept me safe. What happened…Hap, you couldn't help that. You tossed me off the bike, you _did _save me. What if I hadn't been able to shoot? Shit, what if…" she started breathing more heavily, chest pumping.

Hap moved his hand up between her breasts, her pulse a quick flutter against his palm. "Tell me," he urged. He didn't know any other way to deal with his own shit aside from burying it way, way back in his head somewhere, forgetting about it. He'd been reading that notebook of hers though, and internalizing her thoughts was proving unhealthy. The carefully printed letters had come leaping off the page at him, the confusion and frustration of what she'd written since the accident making him realize how much it had affected her. "Walk me through it."

The way she closed her eyes and swallowed told him she knew what he was after. Ava nodded, pulled in another deep breath, and then found his gaze again. "I wasn't even me," she said quietly. "I saw them…they were walking towards you…and I didn't even hurt anymore. I just knew that I had to stop them."

She blinked hard and tilted her head so she was staring at his stomach. "I couldn't feel the gun in my hand. I knew what I was doing, I _wanted _to do it, but I just wasn't myself. It's like…" He saw the shine in the corner of her eye. "I wanted them dead, but I didn't want to be the one who killed them. God, that makes me a pussy, I know. But it was like I was possessed."

He recalled the article she'd written two days before, the one about the willingness to protect a loved one at all costs, no matter the consequences to one's own psyche. She had been struggling to find a cold, heartless side of herself on the lined paper, but in the end, the entry came across as a desperate plea for someone to just take the bad shit away.

"Is it like that for you?" she whispered.

"No."

Ava sighed.

She was in a strange spot, his girl. It would have been so much easier for her if she'd been born a boy. By now, she'd have a reaper on her back and a knife on her hip, already prospecting the club. As it was, she was too smart a girl to just be a club bimbo. But at eighteen, she didn't really know what she wanted, which decisions to make; should have been going to slumber parties, crank calling boys, spending spring break on the beach getting brown and sneaking margaritas with her girlfriends. Instead, she wanted him, and only him, and the maturity of that decision left her young and unsure about other priorities in her life.

"I worry," she said, her voice already soft and then muffled by the hem of his t-shirt. "I shouldn't…things should be okay now…but I worry all the time." She took a deep breath and then continued in a rush ", I worry about you getting hurt again, or not healing properly, about losing you, about…" her eyes flicked up to his for a moment ", you not wanting me anymore."

Happy scowled. "For starters, you can't kill me, right? Nine lives, babe."

She smiled around her fretful expression.

"And when the fuck have I ever not wanted you?"

Ava looked almost guilty as she smoothed her fingers down the arm and hand he used to stroke her. "I know I have to be suffocating you. I just feel so desperate all the time. If I'm not touching you or sitting with you…and I'm sorry but I'm addicted to fucking. I just…" she dug her nails into him lightly, eyes trained on a smear of plain skin where the road had stripped a piece of his sleeve tattoo.

It was that teenage, puppy love bullshit on her part. He understood the intensity – it was the same for him – but not so much the doubt and cloying anxiety. He'd always been in her life, so he didn't understand why she was suddenly so worried that he wouldn't be. Her confidence, for several reasons, was shot to shit. His come-and-go game and the punishing sex had damaged her. And he was finding out it wasn't so simple to bring her back from that.

"I read your notebook," he blurted, not really intending to have brought it up.

Her eyes widened as she shifted and faced upwards again. But it was more out of surprise than embarrassment. It helped though, seemed to pull her out of whatever funk she was spiraling towards. "And it took you this long to harass me about it?"

He scowled. "No." But in truth, yes. He'd been flabbergasted from the first sentence. He hadn't cracked anything but a bike mag since high school – which had been a loooong time ago – so he was sure there were nuances and techniques that were lost upon him. But he had expected anything, maybe even a collection of _OMG, today was so fucking great. I like totally have a crush on Timmy and he's like totally super hottt! And I lurve him!. _But no, thankfully, he had instantly been reminded that this was his girl and she didn't say stupid shit like that, much less write it. Words she'd never uttered in her life had come out in ink, painting him a picture, drawing him into the complete flip side of the MC; the world of its women.

Rather than mindless, insipid little diary entries, Happy had found a collection of articles, some almost story-like in their depth of narrative, not about Ava's favorite color of nail polish or who her best friend wanted to take to prom, but about her role, the role of all the women, within SAMCRO. Pensive, reflective pieces that went on for pages and pages, fighting the negative feminist views of Old Ladies being downtrodden, of being repressed. Little snippets that explained the intricacies of what love meant in the world of OMCs.

The way she talked about sex was so…well…artistic. In his head it was _hard, fast, good, bad, _and a variety of other monosyllabic words. But for her, it went on for page after page, handwriting getting slanted and light as she'd relived the kisses, the touches, the building climaxes. It was flowery and feminine, but it was totally her. And it was staggering to read her innermost thoughts, to know how she felt about him…in every sense of the word.

"You need to go back to school," he told her. "You're good, babe."

She gave him a shy half-smile. "You're just saying that."

"Nope." He felt himself grin. "Damn fuckin' good. Fuckin' blow Tux's bitch outta the water."

She chuckled and it shook her trim body, sending the vibrations through his lap in a pleasant way. She frowned though, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. "Wait…did you read _all _of it?"

"Yep."

"Damn. That's embarrassing."

He smoothed his hand down her stomach again, fingertips skimming over the textured lace of the front of her panties. Her hips moved up at the slightest touch as he cupped her, the frown turning to something much more relaxed. Her sigh was content almost.

"We're gonna get through this," Hap soothed. "And I'm gonna get on the road again, 'cause it's what I'm good at. And you need to do what you're good at. School, Ava. We'll make it work. You're too damn smart not to."

He worked his finger into the magic little cleft between her legs, watching her lids lower to half mast for a moment. "Coercion tactic?" she questioned with a grin, lifting her hips to give him better access.

"Whatever works. Besides, aren't you addicted to fuckin'?"

_The intimacy; that achievement of oneness that is having him in your heart and body _she had written, elevating him to a position that he almost wasn't comfortable with. He was okay with it now, though, as he thumbed her panties to the side and stroked her velvety soft, neatly shaven pussy. His thumb found her clit and his fingers went diving in. She was already wet for him; her body young and easily stirred.

Her head kicked back, mouth parting as she sighed gratefully. Color bloomed in her cheeks, her eyelids fluttered. He would have preferred to be inside her – felt his cock hardening now – but fucking her like this enabled him to watch her. And she was gorgeous in the throes.

He wasn't seeing enough though. Hap reached with his free hand, never slackening the steady rhythm he set with his fingers, and pulled her shirt up over her tits. He liked to watch them move as she sucked in air. Her nipples popped out like little pink pencil erasers. He squeezed them, rolled the tight buds between thumb and forefinger and she became more agitated. She shifted onto her side, legs clamping around his arm. It didn't slow him down though, and as she clawed at him, he knew her movements were involuntary and that she wanted even more than what his hand could give her.

Then she stirred against his lap, the rustle of her hair on his nylon pants loud as she worked them down and took him in her mouth. _Jesus. _Her tongue, her lips, the heat, the way she cupped his balls in her hands…shit, she was getting good at this. Damn good.

He felt himself slipping, wanting to just lean back and enjoy what she was doing to him. But it needed to be mutual. His whole arm flexed as he thrust his fingers inside her, his other hand on the back of her head, guiding and keeping their rhythms in sync.

He loved, afterward, to see his cum all over the side of her face. It had been inadvertent on her part, pulling off as her own orgasm came, but it was hot as fuck to see her wipe it delicately from her cheek with one long finger. Her eyes, still cloudy and heavy-lidded, found his as she sucked her finger clean, pulling it back out between pursed lips and then smiling.

"Goddamn…you're a slut," he managed.

Her grin widened. "Thought you liked that?"

"MmmHmm."

Ava laughed as she rolled over onto her back again, happy and spent. His eyes wandered over her half-naked, flawless skin, and that urge to put a needle to her returned. He wanted to tell the world that she was taken…and he wanted her to know that he was serious about everything he'd ever told her. It was long overdue.

"Tomorrow, you need to go pick up some of that vitamin A and D ointment."

Her face was blank for only a moment before it lit up with a million watt smile. "Are you serious?"

"And dust off the sketch pad. You're gonna help me."

**TBC**


	43. Chapter 43

**AN: **So don't sue, but I got several really different answers when I started asking around about how tattoo guns work. I filled in the gaps with what I've seen from _L.A. Ink_, and hope it's at least somewhat accurate.

**...**

**June 2001**

**Seattle, Washington**

"Hap…please. It's just for a couple of hours and you know she'll behave. Plus it's raining like piss out of a boot, you can't go anywhere in that."

Happy glanced over her shoulder through the little six-paned window above her kitchen sink; the sky beyond a hazy gray, water spattering against the glass. The rain pounded on the roof, the sound echoing inside the little house like white noise. And above it, he could hear one of Maggie's stilettos rapping the linoleum with impatience. _Bitch _he thought. He wasn't a goddamn babysitter.

She sighed heavily. "If I don't go into the office, I'll lose my damn job."

This had begun as one of his routine check-ins. He'd been in Seattle to meet with a "business associate" and had decided to pop in and check on Maggie and the kid, only then the heavens had opened up and then Maggie's boss had called her back in. He really was stuck. Riding in this weather was possible, but not advisable, and certainly not fun…but he couldn't just be _away _from the club like this. He had obligations. Duties. One of which, he reminded himself with some resignation, was keeping the SAMCRO Queen's little cousin safe.

"Be quick about it," he said, waving her off with a scowl. "I ain't got all night."

"You're the best, Hap," she flashed him a shit-eating grin and patted him on the arm as she walked past.

"You bet your ass I am."

"Bye, Ava. Be good, baby," she said. Hap turned toward the kitchen table and watched her drop a kiss on her daughter's head. "I'll be back!" she called, passing into the next room. The door slammed and then she was gone.

Hap stood a moment, arms folded, watching Ava. If he was honest with himself, he was crazy about the kid. He didn't like children in general, but this one was pretty cool, not to mention she was like his niece…surrogate daughter almost if he let himself think on it too hard. It was impossible not to return the favor when she smiled at him.

Today, the five-year-old was in a kitchen chair, little legs in their purple leggings swinging as she stared with almost comical focus at the paper in front of her on the table. The few kids he'd been around – some of the guys' snot-nosed rugrats – had the attention spans of goddamn butterflies. Not Ava. There was an open cigar box of colored pencils and crayons at her elbow, little fingers sorting through them carefully for just the right color. Damn him…he had important shit to do…but he pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, scooting it around so that he could look at her drawing from a better angle.

"Ducks?" he asked of the little brown figures with the orange beaks, clearly floating on a pond, the water done in pale blue.

"At the park," she said. "Where Mama takes me." She selected a shade of green pencil and turned her head to him excitedly, eyes sparkling, dimples on full display. She was a cute little shit. "You wanna draw with me?"

He wasn't down with tea parties or dress-up or whatever the hell else little girls did. He played a pretty mean horse when requested, but drawing was their thing. Maggie would sit and color with her, but Ava had told him once, in a secret, hushed whisper, that "Mama didn't draw too good," and she would rather do it with him. And all his years tattooing, his skill with a pencil and paper, delighted her.

He held out a hand and she passed him a black pencil out of routine, sliding over a clean piece of paper. He'd started, the first time grudgingly, sketching line drawings for tats he was already supposed to be working on. But then Ava had started requesting things, leaning so low over his paper he thought he'd catch her in the nose with the pencil, watching with rapt attention as his design took shape. So now he began with the same question every time. "What are we drawin', kiddo?"

"Draw me a tattoo," she said, her smile becoming shy. "Please."

"A tat?" he snorted. "Think you're a little young for that, sweetheart."

"We don't have to tell Mama," she said, leaning forward, eyes shifting side to side. This kid watched way too many mob movies with her mother. "It can be a secret."

"You'd keep a secret from your mom?" he couldn't help but ask, biting back a grin.

She considered it a moment, mouth pulling to the side, watching the ceiling as she weighed the question. She finally nodded, face solemn. "With you I would. But no one else. Just you."

It was strange, but it almost felt…nice…to have that kind of blind confidence placed in him. He nodded. "What kind of tat?" he asked, already beginning a lily with wide, fast pencil strokes, shaping out the petals first.

She didn't answer right away, propping her head up on a raised arm, watching. "Flowers?" she asked when it became clear what he was sketching.

"Chicks look good with flowers," he justified. "Trust me on this one."

**November 2013**

She'd claimed to be rusty, having concentrated more on her writing as of late, but the girl still had mad skills with a pencil. There were so many parts of his life that he didn't – couldn't – share with her, but he'd always thought that if given the chance and some guidance, she'd make a hell of a tattoo artist. He could share this with her; watching her make delicate little adjustments to the rough line sketch he'd handed to her. She didn't change anything he'd done; just added a little scroll here, or an extra little cluster of leaves there.

"That looks kick-ass," Juice said from over their shoulders, whistling softly.

Ava unleashed another of those barely-contained, exuberant smiles she'd been flashing since this morning. "Isn't it?" her voice caught; high like a little girl standing outside the gates of Disneyland. Happy wasn't sure he'd ever seen her so excited. He had figured that this would be meaningful for her, but hadn't counted on it being this much so. Shit…he should have done this months ago.

Their chairs creaked as Juice put a hand on each and leaned between them, trying to get a better look at the sketch pad in Ava's hands. "Where are you gonna put it?"

"Here," Hap put a hand on his own side. "And then the lettering across the back."

Juice nodded. "Tramp stamp area kinda?"

"Yeah. It's the widest." Which still wasn't that wide, but was better than around her tiny waist. Not to mention he'd like seeing it there when he was going at her from behind. The letters were _large_, would wrap around almost to the front of each hip. Together, the name and the image he'd worked up were going to be loud and obvious on her white skin…almost big enough to be seen via satellite.

With a satisfied little nod, Ava handed him the pad again. "It's perfect."

Not quite. He had a couple of free-hand details he wanted to add on at the end as a surprise. "A'ight," he laid the transfer paper over top and began tracing. "Get on the table."

They'd come to the clubhouse for this; having more room and a better work space, an electrical outlet within easy reach. He could tattoo anywhere, but a solid table was the best thing what with his leg right now. "Her shirt's comin' off," he told Juice, not looking up from his paper. "So, get out, bro."

"Sure," he felt Juice thump him on the shoulder as he headed for the door. "It doesn't hurt that bad," he offered to Ava. "You'll do great."

**-O-**

The last time he'd had her up on one of these bar tables in the clubhouse, things had been much more…urgent. That insane afternoon of knife lessons and forbidden fucking felt a lifetime ago as Ava peeled her shirt off over her head. Only this time, instead of sneaking around, Happy had every right to throw someone out for walking in on them.

He had his equipment set up on a chair he'd pulled within easy reach; his tattoo gun, clean paper towels – the soft kind – his little ink wells full of black, white, blue, purple and green waiting for the needle. Watching him finish up his stencil, her heart did another of those funky cartwheels it had been performing since she'd awakened that morning. She wanted to run down the streets of Charming, screaming ", Happy's gonna ink me!" at the top of her lungs. God, she'd bee willing to walk around topless or bottomless depending on the locale, just to show it off, but he'd picked a spot in the middle, somewhere that could be seen if she wore a cropped shirt. She wanted everyone, every fucking person on the map, to see his brand on her, to know that she was taken and that it was him who'd done the taking.

She was trembling as she clutched the edge of the table, her palms damp against the wood. He was going to ink her, mark her; her Happy, due north on her compass, was going to mark her as his Old Lady with something far more permanent than his teeth. Everyone who saw his handiwork would know who she belonged to. Her heart thundered in her fluttering chest, the blood rushing in her ears. Christ, she thought she might cum just watching him double check his gear. This was all so surreal; the joyous power of the gesture drowning out any and all negative thoughts that had plagued her as of late.

And then he glanced up at her, looking like he almost wanted to smile. "You ready?"

"I was fucking born ready for this," she said, grinning until her face ached.

"A'ight," he laughed, snapping on his black gloves. "Lie down, baby."

They had agreed to do the lower back part of the design first, so she stretched out on her stomach, feet dangling off the edge of the table. It felt like her skin quivered uncontrollably as she waited, jerking when the stencil landed over her spine. "Easy," he murmured, smoothing it down with firm hands. Then he was peeling it off again. She felt the soothing coolness of the numbing rub he worked into her skin.

And then the gun fired up with an electric whine.

"Relax," he said. "We'll test it first."

She had gone flying off the back of a motorcycle, had her shoulder knocked out of the socket when she smashed onto the road. The pavement had stripped the top layer of skin off her arm. Her arm had been stabbed. Her rib cracked. Her head bashed into a cement floor. The little, quick nip of the needle started as just a pin prick, then became something like a cat scratch as he pulled it along for a moment. Just as quickly, the little twinge was gone. "You good?"

It was probably a three on her scale of pain, not even as bad as a vaccination. "I'm perfect," she said with a sigh, releasing the tension in her body as she settled her chin over her folded arms.

"Cool." And then he got to work.

**-O-**

Tattooing was hypnotic. Peaceful. The buzzing of the gun and the methodical process of inking and wiping, inking and wiping settled Happy into a state of calm unlike any other he'd ever achieved. He still did it because of requests and a natural talent for it, but mostly, because it was so grounding. This tattoo, more than any other, was so amazingly important, drawing him in like a magnet, the rest of the world dropping away except for the gun, the ink, and his girl's perfect white skin.

She lay on her right side now as he worked on that part of the tat. She was so narrow that the design rolled from stomach to back, from the point of her hip to the underside of her ribcage, right on the curve of her waist, lending the image femininity. Most of his work had been performed on brothers, or random walk-ins the few years he'd worked at a shop in Tacoma. But there was something very basic and almost sexual about watching the needle mark Ava, knowing what the ink he left meant for both of them. This was permanent…and he didn't have one doubt as he dipped the needle in the purple well and went back to filling in one of the flowers.

He didn't talk to her as he worked. Strangers liked to be chatted up, but he didn't have any of those routine questions to ask her, and it felt as if there was a spell hanging over the whole process he didn't want to break. In some ways this felt preordained. Full circle from their time spent at Maggie's kitchen table "drawing", to him finally giving her that tattoo she'd always wanted.

He smeared a paper towel across her skin, wiping away the excess ink, letting him see the detailed shading and blending of colors beneath. One more swipe with the blue…there. "Almost done," he promised. "On your back for me."

She rolled, presenting her flat stomach and the little curls of colored ink that wrapped around from her side. She was relaxed now, sleepy even, the pain having become so regular that it was soothing almost in its consistency. He'd told her the night before to just not think about it, to take her mind somewhere else and leave her body under the needle. Her eyes were dreamy, but definitely not "away" as she turned her head towards him.

"One more thing…two actually," he explained, going back to the black ink. Hap curled his arm around so she couldn't see the free-hand design he left just above her left hip, right over the softest part of her stomach. Damn, the colors he'd used, the placement of everything…this was going to look spectacular with that purple bikini of hers.

He felt a little funny, tingly almost as he wiped the last of the ink and leaned back in his chair. His shoulders burned from holding his position for nearly four hours. Shit, Ava had to be on fire after a piece that large and detailed…but it had been worth it. She had insisted that they do it all at once instead of in stages, and he was glad now that they'd done it that way. He wouldn't have wanted to look at her for a day with a half-finished tattoo.

"Is that it?" she asked like she didn't believe that they might actually be done. Her brows lifted hopefully.

Hap couldn't stop the smile that threatened to crack his face in two. Her tat was fucking huge and just made her that much prettier. "Go check it out before we dress it."

**-O-**

Ava bounded down the hall, not caring that she was practically skipping like a kid. She almost overran the doorway to the weight room and grabbed at the jamb, swinging across the threshold. The guys had a floor-length studio mirror along one wall and she twisted around, presenting her back and left side to it.

She gasped.

Because Happy was a Nomad – probably would never be SAMCRO again he'd told her – he couldn't put a crow on her. That privilege was reserved for Redwood charter members only. And women weren't allowed to wear any club symbols – nothing reaper affiliated. No MC '1%' diamonds. She could have a "Property of…" tat, but he wasn't patching her like that. So that had left them with few options that would definitively mark her as his. She didn't think he could have been any clearer than this.

From hip to hip across the small of her back, was his name done in beautiful black calligraphy, the tails of the Ps and Y dipping down to the top of her ass. He'd used blue and a little bit of purple to create a smoke and flame effect around the lettering, all of it popping as if in three dimensions.

And on her side, the purples, blues and greens blending the two designs, was an almost retro collage of flowers, hip to ribs. In the middle of the foliage, its muzzle pointing upwards, was the profile of the Glock she'd used out on the highway. The smooth, black and gray shading of the metal stood out against the softer, more delicate shapes of the flowers – the ferocious and the feminine. Homage, he'd said, to what she'd done for him, and therefore the club.

Ava twisted as her gaze passed over every line, each curling inch of detail. And then, already ecstatic, something else caught her eye. She turned, facing the mirror, noticing the marks down low on her belly, an afterthought to the design on her side. She realized, with a strangled squeal that she covered with a hand, that two little smiley faces looked back at her from the mirror, just like his.

"Hap?" She took off jogging back to the common room. He was standing, all his weight on his good leg, putting his things back in the open tackle box on the table. "Hap?" she repeated.

His head snapped around.

"What are these?" she pointed to the smiley faces, finger quivering.

He gave her a carefully blank look. "You don't like 'em?"

She didn't answer, not trusting her voice to keep from going all soprano shriek on her.

Slowly, and with some difficulty, he maneuvered away from the table and faced her, though still held it for support. She stepped towards him, ready to fall with him and cushion his landing should he lose his balance. He frowned. "Those faces aren't club specific…they're just for me. And I thought, you know, after everything, that you needed a couple."

He started getting fuzzy in front of her which she took to mean that she was about to cry. She blinked.

Hap looked almost…hurt, which was only a slight variation on his angry face. "I can turn 'em into flowers if you want."

"No!" she gasped. "No, God no." He was so wonderful, so perfect in every violent, imperfect way possible. And he had no idea what he'd given her with his natural gift for tattooing. Hap still looked a little confused until she stepped into him and slid her arms around his waist, her cheek on his chest. "It's beautiful," she managed, squeezing her arms around him and wondering if it was possible to just get so close they started to melt and dissolve into one another. "Thank you. You have no idea…thank you."

She felt him pushing her back, tried to resist, but he was much stronger. His gaze was stern. "You're sure? You like it?"

"I love it," she confirmed, stretching up on her toes to kiss him. He let her lead for only a moment before his hand cupped the back of her head and crushed her to him. Part of her – a part she kept firmly in check – wanted to giggle at the sloppy, _I wanna fuck you so hard _feel that was ninety percent of his kisses. Hungry, tongues touching, a graze of teeth here and there. The shameless imitation of sex with its forward and retreat.

"We're gonna have to stop," Ava breathed when they broke apart.

He arched a brow questioningly.

"Or you're gonna have to do me."

**-O-**

"I'm gonna head out, Mom," Ava said as she leaned in through the door to the T-M office. "Hap's gonna stay and get some 'man' time in with the guys."

Maggie glanced up from the computer. "Okay…" her eyes landed on the slightly lumpy look to Ava's shirt. "Ooh! Lemme see!"

She'd managed to avoid any of the other guys on her trip between the clubhouse and the garage, thankful to not have Chibs give her the stink-eye. But Maggie was of course excited about the tat. "Can't see it yet," she hiked up the hem of her shirt and revealed the black plastic wrap he'd taped over the ink. "It's gotta stay covered for ten hours."

Maggie made a face. "Oh sure, statutory rape laws he ignores…but don't you dare take off that bandage."

She stuck her tongue out at her mother. "You can see it tonight. It'll just be us for dinner – the guys are having some sort of cigars and poker night."

"Ahh, yes, and then we hear your father bitch about Opie cleaning him out for two weeks. Yep, see you at home, babe." She went back to her computer with a dismissive little wave.

"See ya." Ava slipped her shades on as she stepped back out into the parking lot, nearly running into Tig who was on his way into the office with a handful of paperwork. She stepped to the side, frowning. The Sgt at Arms had been strange with her ever since what was being called the "Fresno FUBAR". Normally fast with a sneer or a poke or some snide remark carefully designed to piss her off, the past few weeks, he'd been cool and removed with her, which was almost more annoying than being pestered because the man was just scary when he quiet. For Tig to be one of the two men the others called "killer" – or "killa" if her man was saying it – he and Happy couldn't have been more different to her.

"Hey," he told her flatly, as if he were talking to, say…Gemma. Not friendly, because he didn't do friendly, but not nasty either.

"Hey?" her response was more of a question. He started toward the office again and curiosity got the best of her. "Tig? Um…what's with all this being polite shit?"

He scowled at her. Ahh, there was the Tigger she knew. Then shrugged. "Whatever."

"No, I'm serious," Ava pressed. "You've been almost…decent…to me and I wanna know why."

Tig looked like he wanted to tell her to piss off and keep going, but he paused, sighing. "I think you're a little shit," he said truthfully. "But you did save Hap. And if he's gonna go and make it official, I gotta respect that, right?"

She nodded, surprised.

"Don't mean I have to like you," he grinned nastily. "But he does. So…yeah. Whatever."

Ava bit back a smile as he walked away, heard him loudly tell Maggie that ", no fucking way," was he doing something. She'd known it was real, she wouldn't be covered in ointment and dressings and feel like her skin was on fire if it wasn't, but Tig had confirmed it on a club level. She was Happy's Old Lady. And _everyone _recognized it.

**TBC**


	44. Chapter 44

**AN: **So, Bobby said ", cum equals cash". And since I'm sure a lot of you agree with that, I expect to get some cash from all you dirty people. Ha! Kidding.

Plot next time, but this is pretty much just sex. You were warned.

…

**Late December 2013**

Ava was pissed at herself. After one too many shots the night before, she had overslept by about…two hours, which was not the day for it. She'd grown accustomed to the quiet, still house that Maggie and Chibs left in their wake each morning, Happy snoring softly on the neighboring pillow, staying in bed until nearly noon with nowhere to go and nothing to do.

But today had been important. Ten days out of his cast, Hap was supposed to go back into the orthopedist this morning to see how the soft, walking cast was working out and to check the healed fractures in his leg. His appointment was at eight, but seeing as how it was ten fifteen, she'd sorely failed him as an Old Lady this morning. A quick pat revealed that the sheets beside her were cold. His crutches, no longer needed, were propped up in the corner, so that was no help. "Hap?" she called loudly, but got no answer. Sighing with frustration at her own laziness, she checked her cell. One new text message. _Bobby drove me. Sleep. Back later._

"I suck," she muttered, flinging back the covers and climbing out of bed.

She'd never quite been able to figure out their house. The hall and the bedrooms were floored with imitation cherry, the living room carpeted. On cool mornings like this one, the floorboards were startlingly cold under her bare feet. It always made for a fast, shivering walk to the bathroom, and today was no different. She showered and by the time she washed her hair, shaved her legs and another, even more important area, the water had grown cold. And then the tile was cold on her feet. Damn this cheap house and its shitty insulation! It was California, what the hell would they have done with this place in North Dakota?

Ava shivered inside her towel while she put her makeup on. It was one of those habits inherited from her mother – one she couldn't seem to break. What was there to worry about from Crow Eaters if you looked hot for your man every day? She figured Hap already wished she had bigger tits – no sense looking like an old sea hag and driving him to another's bed. She was dressing before she dried her hair, in just her bra and panties, when she heard the front door open.

"Happy?" she called out.

"Yeah. I'm comin'."

"No, hold on." She didn't want him to put any more strain on the leg than he had to. Though the docs had said it would be a good idea to continue to use his crutches with the walking cast, he'd refused, thumping his way around the house like Igor the past week and a half. She was admiring her ink in the mirror as she put her arms through the sleeves of her shirt, ready to pull it over her head, when Happy leaned through the bathroom doorway, his image startling her a bit in the glass.

"Hey!" she couldn't stop that instant bubbling of excitement that kicked up inside her every time they were reunited – even if only after an hour or two. She really was pathetic like that. Maggie had laughed at her, waved off her worry and told her that eventually, she'd quit needing him like a junkie in need of another hit. For now though, even if it was just sitting in companionable silence, she wanted to be with him. As soon as he was healed, he'd be back to "work" and they'd be apart a good bit. She wanted to steal this time now while she could. "I'm sorry I overslept," she said as she turned to face him, shirt forgotten for the moment. "You should have waked me."

He shrugged. "Nah." Then grinned. "You were tired."

That was true. She grinned at the memory of their evening at the clubhouse. They'd ended up in his dorm with a bottle of Jack. She was enjoying this new sexual power their encounters were giving her; being on top all the time put her in control to a certain extent, and it became easier to ensure that she got what she was after each time. But she was done with it; wanted him back on top where he belonged, impressing his strength and crazy, lustful passion on her with each crippling stroke. She wanted, as her mother had said and for lack of better wording, for him to fuck her into a coma. To get to that point that it hurt and she wanted to cry, but begged him with breathless urgency to never stop.

It was impossible for her to imagine being with another man at this point. Lyla had asked her a few seemingly innocent questions laced with suggestion, and the answers had seemed to startle the older woman. Ava hadn't been about to ask about Opie and his…habits…but she'd gathered Lyla was a little taken aback by what she'd said about Happy. Ava figured he was rougher than a lot of men, but with nothing for comparison, she had no way to want anything different. And if she was honest, it was a source of pride for her. Not just any doe-eyed, genteel flower could handle him.

A little lost in her own head, it took her a moment to realize that Hap was wearing _jeans _and no cast. A pair of black and white Ecko Reds, and his cut over his sweatshirt. She gasped. "Where's your brace? Are you okay? What did the doctor say? Jesus, do you need to sit down? Are you supposed to be walking like this?"

He chuckled and tried to wipe his smile away with his hand, white teeth flashing a moment before he became stern again. "Cool it, _Mom_. It's all good." He stepped fully into the bathroom, leaning heavily on his good leg, limping noticeably, but actually _walking. _No cast. No crutches. Just both his legs, actually working. Eight weeks since the bike tumble and he was _walking. _

Ava felt the sudden, unwanted prick of tears and shook her head fiercely, chasing them away. "What did they say?" she asked again, now curious instead of chastising.

Hap shrugged, nonchalant as if she'd asked him about the weather. "The breaks are healed. Knee's still a little fucked, want me to go to therapy, which, your Old Man can help with that."

Ava nodded, unable to fight that knowledge. Between Chibs and Tara, they could get him on the road to a full recovery.

"They want me to wear a brace, but fuck that. No trauma, no heavy lifting, but good as new otherwise."

She grinned broadly. He really wasn't good as new, undoubtedly had weeks, months even before his atrophied muscles were back to full function, before he could run, jump, stalk like he was used to. Any accident, mishap, fall, and his newly mended bones might break all over again. But for now, it was so nice to see him looking like himself again; wearing his usual clothes, those baggy jeans and her favorite of his belt buckles. "I'm so glad, baby," she said quietly, reaching up with one sleeved arm and running her hand down his chest.

He frowned and it took her a moment to realize why. "Baby?"

Ava frowned too. "I'm not sure where that came from," she admitted. "Kinda weird, huh?"

His head was tilted, face thoughtful. "I dunno…you've just never said that before."

"Well, I can't very well use 'Uncle' anymore. I don't know how to play the banjo."

She saw him restrain another smile and pushed him lightly in the chest. "Oh, laugh, you big ass! It doesn't make you less of a man to think a girl's funny."

He did smile, but it was nasty, eyes narrowing to dark slits. She half wondered – as her insides tightened with anticipation – if he smiled like that before he killed somebody. "I let you get away with too much," he twitched his brows ", got you forgettin' who the man is."

Her hand was still on his chest and she leaned in, a shudder running through her. "I'm sorry," she put on the submissive charm, looking up at him through her lashes. "I get too excited, but I don't forget. Not ever."

His smile was more genuine this time, pleased, and he didn't try to cover it. She felt one of his hands pulling the forgotten shirt down her arms and away from her. "What're you doing in here half naked? Fuckin' yourself in front of the mirror?"

"No," she protested, but felt the heat rise in her cheeks. It was hard to get a blush out of her, but the mental image of having him _watch _her do that had her suddenly hot. "Why? Does that interest you?"

He was in so close, leaned down in her face until their noses almost touched. "Maybe later."

And then his arms were around her and he was taking her down to the floor. Ava had a fleeting worry that his leg wasn't ready for that, but then she felt the soft nap of the bath mat under her back and Happy was over her, braced on his arms and looking like a tiger about to pounce. She had been dreaming about this, waiting for it, and knew that he wouldn't stop even if he needed to. The chance was worth it though. They needed this.

She lifted her shoulders up off the tile so she could meet his kiss, and his arm slid around her, hand on the back of her neck, forcing them together. It never seemed enough that she wanted him and came to him willingly in every sense. It was like he wanted to devour her, not just demonstrating his intentions, but unable to control them.

Ava couldn't even breathe, pulled in ragged little gulps of air when he did, not just able to smell, but taste the Listerine and coffee on his tongue from that morning. A faint hint of cigarette smoke. He opened his own mouth wider and wider, spreading her lips, forcing her jaw apart as he pushed down into her all the harder, until his tongue was nearly to the back of her throat. Ava closed her eyes. Tried to breathe through her nose. Even though she loved him, even though she trusted him with her life, it was almost frightening sometimes. Almost. This out of control, absolute coup of her mouth was just a gentle preview of what he'd do to her elsewhere. That kind of reckless intimacy, the rabid way he went at her, was staggering. And likewise had her clawing at his sweatshirt. If this was going to be a heated, sweaty frenzy, she wanted him naked to her hands.

Realizing what she wanted, Hap withdrew his tongue and reared back, a dark god backlit by the globes over the mirror as he hastily ripped off his cut, sweatshirt, and wifebeater, the undershirt coming off with a loud tearing sound. Just as quickly, he was on her again, assaulting her lips and tongue, diving down her throat. Only now, she clutched at the taut muscles in his back and shoulders, sinking in her nails until she felt him settle over her fully. The cold metal of his belt buckle landed on her stomach as he ground against her. She responded, lifting her hips to meet his, pushing back against his aggressive dry humping. Her pulse was roaring now, throbbing, her mind chanting _fuck me, fuck me _in time to her heart beat.

**-O-**

Happy was going to cum if he kept this up, which was a shame because he wasn't ready for that yet. They were still partially clothed. He hadn't sucked on her neck, heard those building sounds of pleasure from her yet. Hadn't put his mouth to those pretty pink nipples, or tongued her soft, just-for-him pussy yet. There was too much he wanted and needed to do to her, that finally, thoughts abandoned him and instinct took over.

He pulled off of her, getting up on his knees, heedless of the stiffness in his left one – the stiffness in his cock was worse. "Get up," he barked. She complied, not needing the reassurance that he wasn't angry, but that he was about to fucking explode and had zero time for pleasantries.

Ava sat up and he caught sight of the little smiley faces he'd put on her hip; her badges of honor for taking out those Irish assholes, and that big ball of goddamn emotions he had in his chest concerning her surged like a living thing. He made fast work of her bra, ditching it over his shoulder, eyes lingering only a moment over her round, ripe little tits before he was pushing her over.

She turned willingly, presenting her back to him. This was what he'd been waiting for since he'd inked her. She'd laid beside him on her stomach and let him trace the letters of his name with his hand, but that gentle sort of thing wasn't what he'd originally had in mind. Now, Ava got up on her knees, popping her spine, giving him her ass, and glanced back over her shoulder, hair falling half over her eyes. _Fuck! _With 'Happy' all over her back, her little ass out like that…shit, this might have been the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

He unbuckled his belt, taking down the zipper on his jeans like he was in a race. Then he grabbed her hips and pulled her back roughly. The tat was calling him, so big and so loud in its declaration of ownership. He licked her skin there, right over the letters of his name. Then moved outward, to the barest hint of softness above her hip, nipped her flesh and flattened his hand between her legs. Hap rubbed her with his palm, until the crotch of her panties was soaked, and continued to run his tongue over her ink.

Ava was rapidly coming unhinged…just the way he wanted her to. She reached a point where all the sweet, loving emotions she had for him bled out and she was a dog in heat, and today, as fucking desperate the way he was, that's where he wanted her; completely gone, nothing but a sexed up animal. And it was happening. She moved her hips under his mouth, trying to push her ass back into him, mewling and gasping and not even able to form words.

He was getting to that point himself, not sure actual language would come if he opened his mouth and engaged his vocal chords. He hooked his fingers in her panties and drew them down in a fast move, baring her smooth, tight ass. It got the same treatment, anxious little nips and bites on one cheek while he kneaded the other with his hand. When his thumb went exploring, finding and putting a little pressure on her asshole, she let out this ungodly, tortured shriek. He moved his hand forward, fingers slipping through her wetness, and knew she was ready, her whole body quivering and flushed as with fever. She'd been ready the first time he'd kissed her, but now she wasn't even herself anymore.

She didn't protest, instead moved readily, panting, when he leaned all the way over her, capturing her wrists in one of his hands and laying her arms flat on the tile in front of her. She was poised like a little diver, ready to plunge across the floor toward the bathtub, still on her knees. His freed cock brushed her ass and he hissed, closer to cumming than he wanted to be. He had to angle his head, but he could watch her ink, read his name over and over above her perfect ass, see his cock rubbing against her white flesh as he ground against her.

Keeping her hands locked in his, forcing her shoulders to keep the odd angle, her chest flattened on the floor, he found her pussy again with his free hand and guided them together, all the way in on one stroke.

The tight, painful pressure of entering her proved too much. His balls tightened, his whole body seizing up with them, and he came. Ava was nowhere close, though, and moaned when she felt him spew inside her, moved her hips. He was still hard afterward, not at all ready to be done. He lay over her, knees and free hand planted on the hard tile, holding her as a willing prisoner, and fucked her until he thought she'd snap in half.

**-O-**

Ava thought she must have been having an out of body experience. The part of her that was her; the rationally thinking almost-adult who prided herself on being halfway smart, was somewhere in there with this animalistic, dick-hungry girl beneath Happy. But for the moment, she was just a bundle of raw nerve endings and building climax. The pain in her shoulders at being held this way just heightened the other sensations. He was magnificent, her Happy, in her and on top of her and bearing down on her with every ounce of strength he possessed. She could hear the sound of their bodies colliding, his ragged breathing in her ear. He swore every other thrust. "Fuck." "Shit." "Goddamn."

His free hand was on the tile half the time, but then she'd feel it on her ass, her breasts, her stomach and shoulders. Over the ink on her side. Each thrust felt harder, faster, the distance between each closing. The tile was hard; hurt her knees. The bath mat rubbed across her already stimulated nipples. She was whining like a dog. It was good. It was so good. It hurt, her entire body was flooded with that twisting pain that radiated out from her lower belly, thought his dick might be touching her heart he was inside her so far, and it was so, so good.

And then he found another gear, speeding up until all the individual strokes just felt like this constant pressure. Her orgasm was coming, her body clenching in preparation. _Come on, come on, come on, _she chanted in that semi-conscious place in her brain. Her head started to spin, her already strained breaths becoming shallower and breathier. It was coming…Jesus it was coming. Hap was slamming into her. So hard. So out of control. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to jump off, wanting to, screaming for it inside her head…

His hand found her clit and all the strings holding her down seemed to snap free at once, cumming so hard she thought she was having a seizure. He followed moments later, spilling inside her. Thank God for Tara being a doctor and writing her that prescription. If not for the pill, she'd already be pregnant…again…because she was realizing that she fucking hated condoms.

His grip slackened on her wrists, letting her bend her elbows and ease some of the soreness in her arms. He lay over her, his sweaty chest on her sweaty back, and caught his breath a moment, still inside her. Still hard.

Inhaling like a vacuum cleaner, Ava turned her head sideways and found his slick arm with her mouth. She bit him lightly on the soft interior of his inked elbow, then licked it. "I love you," she managed to choke out. "I _really _love you."

She heard and felt him draw in a deep breath, and then the bathroom echoed with his raspy laughter. "Shit." Something touched her shoulder – his damp forehead. "Oh…fuck…that was good. Good girl."

She kissed his arm. "Even better if you roll me over."

**-O-**

Somewhere, she'd lost count. Was this their third? Fourth? Fifth time? She didn't know. Her legs were trembling, too weak and liquid feeling to wrap around his waist any longer, so she let them flop wide, giving him all the access he wanted. He'd tongued her until she screamed loud enough to shatter glass, her fingers raking desperately through the short dark-and-light hair on his head. But now it was his ass she held, her fingers gripping the firm, lean roundness of it as he hammered into her yet again.

She was starting to feel delirious, so worn out, so tired, but she felt herself ready to cum yet again. Her face was buried in his shoulder, breathing like a freight train. "Yeah, yeah, oh yeah," a breathless, mindless whisper as she craned her neck back and just basked in his voracity. Her hands on his ass pulled, as if he needed any encouragement to keep drilling into her.

"So fuckin' good. The best bitch. The best, baby." He rasped out things he probably wasn't aware of, but couldn't seem to keep from saying.

She could hear the brush of skin on the bath mat. The slap of sweaty hands and feet on the tile. Things had gotten messy riding bareback like this, and she could hear that too, the quiet, wet sounds of him working in and out of her. She was both unsure that this could go on any longer, so spent, but wanting more at the same time. This was the hardest, fastest, most fervent interaction of theirs by far. More so than the night she'd run the Crow Eater out of his dorm. More so than in Sacramento when he'd used sex as a punishment.

And then like a storm cloud bursting, rain and lightening and thunder rattling down out of the sky, they came in a final thrusting, pawing, gasping crescendo. Afterward, Happy just sort of fell, like his arms wouldn't hold him anymore, and landed with all his weight on her, his head cushioned on her breasts.

Light and colors faded behind Ava's eyes like shadows of fireworks and she closed them, trying to stop the room from spinning. Damn…she would have eaten breakfast if she'd known she was in for the fucking of her life. As her body slowly stopped clenching, and she felt his now-soft cock lying on her thigh, the fatigue started to set in. She was so tired, weak as if she were having a blood sugar attack, arms quivering as she raised them and laid her wrists over her eyes to stop the fucking room from spinning.

Hap was heavy on top of her, his expanding chest pushing against her as he no doubt struggled with the same affliction.

She waited, but the dizziness didn't recede, only made room for the sleep that threatened to drag her under. "Oh, God," she moaned. "I feel like shit."

Immediately, Happy rolled off of her. She opened her bleary eyes when she felt his hand on her arm, rolling her towards him, and found him on his side, not even propped up, head resting on the tile. "Did I…?"

"No," she assured, stifling a sudden yawn. "You're amazing." The cool tile felt nice on her skin, but she instead sought the hot, sweaty pillow of his skin, managing to snuggle up to him. "Just…tired. And hungry."

He grunted an affirmative and rolled onto his back, pulling her up so that she was draped over him. "In a minute. Just rest a sec and it'll get better."

Her eyes fluttered shut and she knew that she couldn't lay here long or she'd drift off. "How's the leg?"

"Don't feel it," his voice rumbled beneath her.

"Good."

She had an idle want for some of her mom's chocolate chip pancakes…on Happy's ripped abs, licking the syrup off his skin…before sleep claimed her.

**-O-**

This Christmas was going to be a big to-do. Rather than Gemma's normal family dinner, the holiday was also going to be used to celebrate the victory over the Irish and the club's solidity coming out on the other side of that. Tacoma was coming down and Fresno was coming up and the clubhouse was going to see a party like it never had in three days. Tig, loving the thought but not wanting anything to do with the preparations, had been sent to Maggie and Chibs' house to pick up a box of Christmas lights. What he hadn't told Maggie was that he had no intention of taking the van and would sooner wind the lights around him like a damn taped mummy than not take his bike.

Grumbling to himself about running errands that should have been Ava's stupid problem, he knocked on the door and became even more pissed than he already was when he didn't receive an answer. "Ava! Open the goddamn door!" Shit, Happy had to be here, right? Whipped fucker was always playing house these days. "Hap! C'mon, man!"

When he still got no answer, he went round to the kitchen door, found the hide-a-key and let himself in.

The house was quiet…too quiet. No TV. No voices. "Yo," he called, traipsing loudly through the house and not finding a sign of life. "I need your mom's fucking lights, Ava. Where are you?"

The bedroom was empty. So he went down to the next open doorway, and felt his eyebrows leap up his forehead. Happy lay on his back on the hard tile of the bathroom floor, dead asleep, and naked. An equally naked Ava lay half on top of him, also asleep. Their clothes were in a tangled heap at the door. The killer had obviously received good news from the doc today…and had gone home and taken all that 'happiness' out on his weanling Old Lady.

She was looking pretty good though. He tilted his head. She was thin to the point of being too thin, her ribs visible under her skin, but had enough curve. Pretty, long legs. Sweet ass…with lots of bite marks, much to his humor. And her tattoo was spectacular. She wasn't what he'd want – he didn't want anyone for more than a time or two – plus, if he was being honest with himself, he was far too partial to her mother to really look twice at the kid.

As he stood there, stupidly, grinning, Hap came awake with a start. He rolled his head around, obviously trying to figure out why he was lying on the bathroom floor. Then his eyes landed on Tig and he scowled. "The fuck, bro? Get out!"

"Sorry," Tig laughed, raising his arms in surrender. "I'm in and out. What the fuck did you do to her?"

Happy let his head fall back against the tile and grinned tiredly. "I think I fucked her into a coma. Now…get out."

**TBC**


	45. Chapter 45

**AN: **This is a lame, short chapter. Sorry! I'm feeling a little brain dead with school and just didn't want to keep you guys hanging. Hopefully follow-up chap will be out this weekend sometime.

…

Gemma was partial to white lights, Maggie to colored, so they'd met somewhere in the middle and the ceiling of the clubhouse overhang was strung liberally with little pops of white, red, blue, green, and yellow light. The interior was trussed up too; metallic garland, big tacky, red velvet bows. Mistletoe hung in strategic doorways…much to the guys' protests. Flames leaped off the grill, licking at the dark night above.

Maggie couldn't remember ever having such a crowd. Members from Tacoma, Salt Lake, Fresno, a few guys from Vegas, and even the majority of the Nomads had shown up. She put her hands in her pockets and leaned back against her Caddy, already sagging with fatigue though the night was only just becoming dark. She knew that after a shot or two, a flurry of hugging out of town members and Old Ladies, some of her vigor would return and she'd last the night. Might even have enough energy left to do her man right…though…considering Chibs and his blank stare at the bar earlier, she had no idea if he'd be looking to get laid. He'd been quiet and thoughtful since early that morning, and while she'd been running around with Gemma, prepping the clubhouse, she hadn't thought much of it. Now though, standing beside her cousin and basking in the giant family that was the Sons, her mind started picking apart his symptoms.

"Use to," Gemma mused, puffing on her cigarette ", you'd already be up on the bar with a bottle in your hand. Half the goddamn crew looking up your skirt."

Maggie snorted. "I'm just hoping it isn't my kid up there tonight, let alone me."

"Nice try. What's eatin' you?"

"Nothing," Maggie lied, not wanting to bog anyone else down with her unpleasant curiosities. "Yet."

**-O-**

"You look like a rockstar," Ellie said with a loud, unhappy sigh.

Ava did a quick visual sweep of her attire as they left her truck and crossed the street towards the overflowing T-M parking lot. She was in size two skinny jeans by Seven, tight as a second skin and tucked into her black boots. Her top was something Maggie had picked out for her with a wicked gleam in her eyes – midnight blue, sleeveless, fitted and cropped so that her tattoo was completely visible between the fancy-stitched hem and the low cut waist of her jeans. She wore a light jacket over it, though it was cropped too, and was shivering in the cold night air. She'd taken great care to ensure that her makeup was flawless. Her nails were metallic chrome, her earrings a little dangling trio of crystal spheres. She thought she looked a bit like a hooker – albeit an expensive one – but had wanted to not only flaunt her ink, but be the sexy, sleek kind of creature Hap would be proud to have on his arm all night.

Beside her, Ellie was dressed modestly in jeans, flats, and a crew-necked sweater. She was the only "kid" who'd been allowed to attend the night's festivities – Neeta busy with the others – and had looked fairly miserable since Ava had picked her up.

"You look cute," Ava said, touching the younger girl on the elbow. "I like your earrings."

"I don't want to look cute," Ellie threw up her hands in frustration. "I want to look…" she glanced over with a pinched expression ", like you."

Ava fumbled for words for a moment. She'd gone from being one of the little urchins to being the young woman others wanted to emulate. "Ellie," she tried to choose her words carefully as they entered the gates to the lot, heading toward the glowing, pulsing, festive throng of bikers in front of the clubhouse. "A lot has happened to me over the past year. I wouldn't change the outcome, but I _would _change the process. This tattoo, Happy, it wasn't an easy road or a fast decision. It's not so glamorous being me."

She watched the fourteen-year-old shrug in slight disagreement. "Is he here already? Happy?"

Ava couldn't stop the smile that split her face. "Yeah. In fact," she stretched taller as they approached the outskirts of the group ", I think that's him over there."

**-O-**

Happy had a beer in his hand and was surrounded by his brothers, standing on _both _his feet, thank you very much, wearing the same sneaks Ava had told him were "super cool" a few days before. But still no Ava. He was enjoying the chance to catch up with Koz and the Tacoma guys, wasn't hating Juice's song selection as "Don't Tread on Me" gave way to "Dragula". It was warm over here by the grill, the sounds of music and laughter soothing and not at all dramatic as the past few months had been. He was back in business, thrilled to be mobile again, but where was his girl? He kept scanning the parking lot, searching her out, but she wasn't there yet.

_Damnit _he kicked himself mentally. He should have gone to pick her up, shouldn't have let her drive over alone. What the hell kind of Old Man was he to leave her to her own defenses like that? The later it became, the more worried he grew. And, if he admitted it, he just plain _missed _her. He hadn't thought it possible, but he was being sucked in by her damn puppy love bullshit trap too.

"Yo," Koz thumped him on the arm. "I think your date's here."

Hap again glanced out toward the alley between the rows of parked cars and bikes, only this time, the dark stretch of asphalt wasn't empty. Walking towards them, her visible skin stark white against the dark of her outfit, Ava looked hot off a catwalk, not the strutting billboard of sex the sweetbutts were, but something graceful instead. His girl loved to fuck like a Cara Cara slut, but she saved that for him, instead acting the proud, self-assured Old Lady for the crowd.

She came closer and her tat – all of it – became obvious. She'd worn something he would have preferred she not, most of her pretty, flat torso on display, but she flaunted his mark with pride, and he couldn't find fault with that. He could tell when she spotted him because her smile changed; no longer the product of knowing she looked good, but the jubilant, barely contained excitement she'd always had when it came to him. Same as when she was a little girl. Which made the thoughts running through his head now sinful…only she was his Old Lady. And judging by the sudden silence of those standing near him, they were well aware of that fact.

No one – not Koz, or Glen's wife who waited excitedly to greet her again – intercepted Ava as she neared them. They showed him that universal Old Man, first-right respect as she stepped into the dancing puddle of light thrown off the grill. The colored Christmas bulbs overhead glinted off the shine in her hair. When she reached up and he felt her hand on his chest, her eyes gazing up at him with that hero worship he hoped she never grew out of, it was impossible not to slide an arm around her waist and kiss her – even though all his brothers were watching.

**-O-**

Ava had only intended to touch him, nothing more. But Hap was in a black thermal long-sleeve under his white SAMCRO tee, his cut, always baggy jeans and those sneakers she liked so much. Then she'd felt the hard flat of his chest under her palm, and she was leaning up before she could help herself. He surprised her by slipping an arm around her and meeting her kiss. He wasn't smiling when she pulled away, but was giving her that warm, pleased look that conveyed pride, affection…all sorts of things he probably thought he kept to himself. Ava felt a flush run beneath her skin, suddenly wishing for a dorm room and a little privacy rather than this blow-out party going on around them.

Their audience was impatient though. "Little Killer!" someone boomed. She stepped around Happy and saw that it was Koz, the big goof grinning ear-to-ear.

"Hey, man," she returned his smile. Happy released her so the Tacoma Sgt at Arms could snatch her up into a bear hug, spinning her around once before setting her back down.

"This little girl," he announced loudly to the crowd as he pushed her back at arms' length ", kicks so much ass! Killer's got a little killer," he repeated what she was sure would become her new nickname, whether she liked it or not.

Ava felt her cheeks redden and glanced around the semi-circle of people standing around them, inching closer to Happy. She recognized Glen and Tux. Juice and Sparky – who'd become BFFs on their run to New Mexico – stood shoulder to shoulder, smiling at her over their beers.

"Turn around," Koz instructed. "Let's see the ink."

She obliged, smiling, and heard several appreciative whistles and murmurs. Hap was amazing with a needle. When she faced forward again, the smiles were knowing, though Koz was the only one to voice what they'd all noticed. "Those," his eyes were trained low on her hip as he nodded and she knew he meant her smiley faces ", mean none of you fuckers should mess with Hap unless you want a new hole to breathe through."

The guys chuckled, but there were a few nods of understanding. They could joke about it, but there was nothing funny about what Ava had done for her Old Man – it was something none of them would soon forget.

"Oh, you boys had your turn, lemme see her," a female voice grumbled, and then a familiar face pushed through the ring of Sons.

"Janine!" Ava gasped, recognizing Glen's wife. She had to be in her late thirties by now, but Janine was still every bit the tall, long-legged, radiant redhead biker chick she'd always been.

"Hey, baby girl!" she shouted over the pounding music, rushing forward to give her a hug. "Look at you all grown up," she fretted with a smooth strand of Ava's hair. "And you didn't tell me you'd gotten yourself hitched! Happy don't say shit when he comes up our way."

"Um…I don't know about 'hitched' -,"

"You've got his name all over your ass!" But Janine pulled her into another embrace before she could protest further.

Ava felt her blush deepen as she spotted Juice grinning over the other woman's shoulder. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Congrats, sweetie," Janine whispered in her ear. "I haven't ever seen either one of you so goddamn happy."

**-O-**

She was so beautiful. Though she'd retained some of her mother's more feminine qualities – her impish, make-you-do-anything-for-her smile for one – Chibs saw much of himself in his daughter. His younger self; that lanky, thinness he'd sported as a kid. Only unlike him, he had a feeling Ava would work hard to maintain those sleek, slim curves instead of getting beer-bellied like he had.

She was glowing tonight; flashing too much skin, what was covered clothed in tight, revealing articles. She bore her new tattoo with pride that just bubbled out with every smile. Hanging on Happy's arm as they perused the decorated interior of the clubhouse, trading smiles and hugs with the family she didn't even have to try and fit in with, Chibs couldn't help but think about his _other _daughter. The one he hadn't spoken to in years. The one not enjoying her new, happy, settled life with old friends and a longtime love. The daughter who had called him that morning from a prepaid cell phone all the way across a country and an ocean.

"S'up, bro?" he recognized Jax's voice as the President joined him at the bar. "You look way too intense for Christmas."

Chibs turned and found the blond with his elbows braced on the table, smile more genuine than he'd seen in months. Apparently, he was the only one in a funk. "It's nothin', Jackie-boy," he said, shaking his head and reaching for his beer again.

"Nah…c'mon, man. I don't buy that." Jax chuckled. "Maggie too tired to give it up?"

Not yet, but he was pretty sure that old headache excuse she didn't believe in would come out in full force once she found out what he'd done. He shook his head again and Jax's voice became serious.

"Any other time, I'd leave you alone, but after what's gone down…if this is club related, I need to know, Chibs." He raised his eyebrows. "If you're just mopin' over Ava and her new art, just tell me and I'll piss off, but if this has something to do with all those phone calls you been gettin', you gotta clue me in."

Chibs sighed. "Aye. I know." Security was still fresh on everyone's minds, Ava and Happy walking around as living reminders of what had almost happened. "Kerianne," he said quietly, seeing Jax's brows jump from the corner of his eye. He watched Ava accept a sip of her man's beer and smile up at him adoringly. "One of McGee's guys, Avery, he's former Scotland Yard. I asked him to look into Fi and the girl. He found 'em in Liverpool."

"Jesus. They hidin' out?"

"I 'spose. Jimmy's replacement knows they could be a risk."

"Shit," Jax said softly. "What's his name…Murphy? He doesn't know yet, does he?"

"Not so far as I know. But, when he finds 'em…"

Jax snorted. "Hey, we did his ass a favor getting rid of Jimmy. He owes us that much."

It was a nice thought, but it was a fleeting one. IRA guys were like male lions; when they took over a new pride, they killed the existing offspring. Chibs shrugged. "Maybe."

"Well, shit, can we get 'em stateside? Bring 'em here, man. We'll find somewhere they can go."

"And Maggie? Ava?"

"Ava's got what she wanted and Maggie'll just have to deal."

He sighed heavily, feeling his age in every stiff muscle. "Kerianne called me today."

He was met by silence.

"She's scared, Jackie-boy." When he turned towards his President again, he found the younger man dumbstruck. "What do I do?"

**TBC**


	46. Chapter 46

Janine was a ruthless gossip; only where Gemma was smug and minimalistic, she was effervescent and loud. She picked at a little dish of peanuts, sprinkling the shells on the table where they sat, and pried each SAMCRO Old Lady about her current relationship status. She had grilled Tara and Lyla, so Ava knew what was coming when the redhead's gaze swung, sparkling, in her direction. She cringed though.

"Alright, 'little killer', I need details on the hookup."

Ava resisted the urge to squirm in her seat as she did a fast scan of the faces around her at the table. Over their beers, her mother and the rest of the Redwood crew of ladies gave her varying degrees of the same curious look – Tara being the most disapproving. Janine obviously knew nothing of the traumatic, forbidden, underage debacle that had been their plunge into romantic territory. Age wasn't really an issue within the club, but having grown up within it, and considering her history with Hap, it had been scandalous.

"Um…"

She was spared an answer when she caught sight of Happy standing propped against the wall. He was staring at her and crooked his finger, calling her to him.

"Excuse me," she gave the Tacoma Old Lady a smile and pushed up from her chair. "Duty calls."

**-O-**

"Did I say something?" Janine asked at Ava's hasty retreat.

Maggie offered her a tight smile. "No, he called her over…but it _is _a strange situation."

"She was still in high school," Gemma offered.

Janine's eyes widened. "Oh."

**-O-**

Ava had never met Quinn, but the man standing in front of her somehow fit all the mental images she'd conjured up. Younger than Clay but older than Hap, he was tall, lanky, no excess fat – a little like Happy in that way – but his once lily white skin had been burned to a red sheen by the sun. His salt and pepper hair was close-cropped – for efficiency no doubt – his shades pushed up onto his head. His face was thin, but there was a touch of Tig to his profile with that nose. Change his outfit, and he would have looked like any other wiry trucker, but as it was, he looked the straight man to the unruly pack of Nomads; obviously the level head that kept them all in check.

He stood talking to Happy and moved his cigar to the hand that clenched the neck of his beer, extending the right towards Ava. "You must be the one who's got my best guy all spun around," he said with a sideways smile.

"Ava," Hap supplied with a snort, then elbowed her lightly. "This is Quinn, kiddo."

"Nice to meet you," she accepted his shake which seemed to widen his eyes. He reminded her a lot of Clay; seemingly too calm on the surface to be in this biz. "I've heard a lot about you, so it's nice to finally see you in person."

"Don't believe the bullshit," he warned, casting a glance towards Hap as he raised his cigar again. He winked at her. "I think our boy finally stumbled into somethin' good for him," he said in a stage whisper. "Don't let him fuck it up."

Ava felt another of those blushing smiles creep across her face at the compliment – knowing the "something good" was her. So far, she'd been showered with congratulations and well wishes. Likewise Happy had been admonished to "take care of her", not to "lose her", and to "count his lucky stars". It was a little embarrassing to know that so many Sons had assumed they'd end up together somehow, but it was also wonderful to know that everyone seemed to approve in some fashion.

"Quinn's a real funny motherfucker," Hap grumbled. He slipped an arm around her, hand on her stomach, and pulled her back against him.

Ava could only smile, too delighted that he was so hands-on in public.

The Nomad President nodded and offered a salute with his beer as he stepped back into the thick of the crowd. "I'll catch ya later, darlin'," he gave her another smile and then got swept away by the tide of bodies.

Alone – in a relative sense – Ava realized they had a nice deep, dark corner of the clubhouse to themselves, untouched by the sparkling lights. A wall of reapers and rockers faced them, the brothers in this recess not paying either of them a bit of attention.

"Do you need to go back to the chick table?" Happy rumbled in her ear, the words rustling her hair.

Goose bumps prickled on her arms, a welcome shudder rippling down her spine. It didn't matter how common it became, the sound of his deep, rough voice was always going to elicit a physical response; her hormones teeming on instinct. "No," she said, leaning back against him, feeling his arm tighten around her hips in response. She grinned at the thought of him wanting to be close to her the same way she wanted to be with him. "I'd rather just stay here and make out with you," Ava sighed, knowing it wouldn't happen.

His other hand moved up to her shoulder and she found herself turning, feet following the steady pressure he used to put her back against the wall and settle in over her. His left hand held him braced off the wood paneling, his right on her hip, thumb rubbing over her bare skin and smiley faces. Her heels gave her a good two inches and their heights weren't so different as his face came close. She hadn't seen it, but he'd obviously had a few shots as they strolled through the clubhouse, the whiskey heavy on his breath when he parted his lips and came that much closer, until only a few inches separated the kiss she wanted to rush into. It soured her, only briefly, to realize that it was Jack Daniels pulling him to her, not a sudden disregard for propriety. She'd take it though, curling her hands around the front halves of his cut and pressing their chests together before his mouth fell over hers.

It was like the night he'd come home during that first lockdown, when he'd awakened her and kissed her almost sweetly. Almost. He was lazy, stroking her lips again and again, changing the angle of his head to invite the feather-light hand she rested along his jaw. Ava was impatient and didn't want to go this slow, pushing her pelvis forward, trying to clue him into her intentions. He would never do her in the middle of the clubhouse like this, but maybe just a little tease, maybe his hand could…

He pushed her back a little, never changing pace. Damn him, but he had so much control when he wanted to. This kiss was tame, teenage even, without a single promise of things progressing further.

Hap pulled back a moment, eyes boring into hers. "Later," he promised firmly. "We'll find a room."

"Don't make it too much later."

He grinned. "Nah. Couldn't do that."

**-O-**

When it became obvious that Ava wasn't coming back; which, as if Maggie could expect her to pass up the opportunity of a little alone time with Happy, she too excused herself from the table.

At the bar, she found Chibs staring down into the depths of an amber-filled glass tumbler having graduated from beer to bourbon. She walked around to the serving side of the bar, with the sink and the taps, and leaned across the surface across from him, laying a hand on his wrist. "Hey."

When he glanced up, that guilty, sad look in his eyes was too familiar. She dared to hope, fleetingly, that he was upset over some club resolution, but she only ever saw him this way when he was worried about his other daughter…and his _wife. _

Around them, the merriment created a wall, sealing her in with Chibs and his misery. Maggie had tried over the past five years, really she had, to squash those angry, bitter sentiments and be supportive of his feelings about Kerianne. She could surely understand loving and wanting to protect a daughter. But it was never just Kerianne. Fiona got lumped in there too, just as in need of his aid as the daughter they'd once upon a time created. Maggie knew Fiona was the mother of his child, and that at some point there had been warmth between them, but after that Irish bitch's betrayal – the games, the lies, the heartbreak – she didn't understand how he could still be so damn honorable about it all. That was just Chibs; too much of a softy sometimes. Tig had _two _kids with his ex, and he didn't spare "that gash" a single backward thought, often talking about whishing he'd "strung her up" before he'd knocked her up.

_No! _she scolded herself mentally. This wasn't a place she should allow old memories to intrude. She couldn't compare two such dissimilar things and expect to wind up happy with the conclusions she drew. It didn't matter what had happened during that lonely, desperate time when Chibs was in Belfast, or what kind of hold the distant past sometimes took over her, she was with _Chibs_, and she _loved _him and she'd _make_ it work.

"What's wrong?" she asked as if she didn't know.

He sighed and shook his head. "Nothin'."

Not this game again. Maggie fiddled with the silver bracelet he always wore. "I don't believe that. And since you have no reason to be unhappy right now, why don't you enlighten me? Hmm?"

Some of the sadness gave way to aggravation on his face. "Well, when you put it so sweetly, dear -,"

"Look at your daughter," she prodded firmly, nodding toward the flash of white skin here and there around Hap's shoulders that was Ava. Chibs did so and then frowned heavily. "Look at what she survived – what she came out on the other side of. And she's set for life; his money, whatever her has, it's hers, forever. He won't ever leave her. Hell, look at this club. You should be on cloud fucking nine right now with everyone else."

"I know," he agreed quietly.

"So what's the matter?"

She watched him battle with himself a moment, debating her reaction obviously.

"Look, if this is about -,"

"They're on the lamb," he cut in, meeting her eyes for the first time. "Kerianne…and…Fi."

_Fi. _He never called her "Mags" like the others did, too casual she guessed, but it was always "Fi" with Fiona. God, she wanted to slam that bitch through a plate glass window.

Maggie was silent, staring at him, and he continued finally. "The guy who took over for Jimmy knows they're alive and he's trackin' 'em. He won't leave 'em alive if he finds 'em. They know too much."

A familiar, unwelcome dread washed over her like cold water. Not dread for the safety of his other family, but in remembrance of her own situation. Maggie and her daughter, fleeing, staying hidden, living an unwanted life in Seattle under the Tacoma charter's thumb; Happy bonding so strongly, on a damn near molecular level to Ava that he now had her backed into a corner, their tongues fucking in the shadows. All of it, every goddamn wonderful, heartbreaking, stressful fragment of their lives had been lived because the Irishman who'd "taken over" for Patrick McBride had learned of Chibs' woman and refused to "leave them alive". Now, that traitorous bitch Fiona had what was coming to her, and Chibs sat miserable as if his world were crashing down around him.

Didn't he know? Couldn't he, after the past fucked up year, see that his family was finally safe and happy? What the fuck, Fiona?

Maggie leaned low over the bar, hand tightening and nails biting into the skin of his wrist. "This," she seethed through gritted teeth ", is _not _okay."

**-O-**

It had to end, regretfully. Ava was getting more and more turned on and Happy seemed not to be, so they had returned to the party. Ava sat with Ellie and a quiet, unobtrusive brunette from Vegas at a table, Happy laughing about something with Tig and Bobby. The Vegas Old Lady – CiCi – had a fast, easy smile, but Ava had noticed that she was constantly scanning the crowded common room, searching, watching. Smart below the smooth, pleasant exterior. Ava was instantly approving of her company.

Ellie, on the other hand, seemed terribly unhappy. She had found a quarter somewhere and was spinning it on the table top, the sound of it rattling around on the wood drowned out as "Down on Me" kicked off through the speakers. Ava herself had spent plenty a mopey night at these parties, usually watching Hap with some Crow Eater and wanting to slit her wrists, but Ellie's discomfort seemed different.

"You hate these things, huh?" she asked.

The fourteen-year-old slapped a hand over the quarter, halting its spin, and glanced up a little sheepishly. "I'm trying. I just…I don't like parties. Not like this."

Ava nodded. Though she'd grown up in the club, she had a feeling Ellie wouldn't get folded into the MC batter a willing egg. After losing her mother, dealing with Lyla and her _profession_, an absentee father and bike-riding, gun-running family – Ellie wouldn't betray her family, but she would no doubt choose to move beyond it. For a time, Ava had wondered if she was stupid for not doing the same. Now, glancing through the crowd and finding Hap's smiling face as he chatted with his brothers, she knew there had never really been a choice for her. Sometimes you could fight blood, but never love. And certainly not both.

"Hey, girls," Gemma pulled up to their table, hands on her hips, still just as flawless and un-smudged as when she'd arrived. "Can I steal you a sec?" she asked of Ava in particular.

"Sure." Ava stood and followed her a few paces away, curious.

"A few girls showed up at the gate; real stupid, jailbait bitches," Gemma said with an eye roll. "I think they're friends of yours."

Ava felt her hackles rise. "Not likely."

She snorted. "I know." She took her chin in a manicured hand and shook her just a tad, affectionately. "Tear 'em up, girl. Just remember; grace. Always with grace."

**-O-**

"How can you be serious?" Maggie yelled, not caring that the walls of the dorm were thin. "I mean, are you _shitting _me? You want them to come _here? _After what that bitch tried to do to us? _To you_? Un-fucking-believable, Chibs! Goddamn!"

He had his hands in his hair, holding the silver and black streaked length off his face, staring at the floor. "Sweetheart -,"

"Stop, okay? We'll just call a 'do-over'. You said something really stupid, so we'll go back to the party and pretend it never happened."

Passive till now, his head snapped up, hands falling into fists. "What the fuck are you, eight? There is no 'do-over'! This is my daughter we're talkin' about!"

"You don't even know what she looks like!" she hurled back. She took a step, hand raising, to do what she wasn't sure. Daughter. Always with this daughter bullshit. What about her? What about Ava? "You _have_ a daughter! One you fuck over every chance you get!"

He ignored the barb. "Kerianne needs me and I won't turn her away."

"And Fiona? You just can't _turn her away _either, can you?"

"I can't talk to you when you get like this."

"Like what?" she closed the gap between them, shaking head to toe with abject fury. "Like a jealous bitch? Is that what I am?"

"You've had too much to drink."

He wouldn't even yell at her – giving up like he always did. Tears stung the backs of her eyes but she'd be damned if she let them loose. "Wire them some money," he voice cracked. "Whatever, but how could you think to bring them here? Do you think Fiona can play nice? She tried to have me _killed_."

"That was Jimmy's doin'."

"Oh, wake up for God's sakes! It was both of them. Fiona doesn't give a shit about you! And you're gonna jeopardize us again because of her?"

She didn't realize how close she'd come until Chibs pushed her shoulders, sending her back a step. "It's not your decision."

**-O-**

The first thing Ava noticed as she reached the gate was Chief Hale's Jeep across the street, his arms folded as he leaned back against the vehicle, staring up at the clubhouse. _Shit _she thought, careful to keep her face blank. She knew this looked bad. Mayday had followed her out here; she'd snagged him on her way past the grill, not wanting Hap to know what was going on. Having the giant biker behind her now felt like overkill as she faced the trio of party crashers.

Both Simms girls – Stephanie and her oh-so-wonderful sister Danielle – stood alongside Jenny Stone's high school friend Megan Kimbrell, all three of them dressed hot off the set of an Abercrombie shoot, fluffing their hair and rearranging the knock-off bags on their arms. The rap of Ava's boot heels on the pavement drew their stares, and then Danielle went white under her one-shade-too-dark liquid foundation. Ava was all about makeup, but these bitches looked like they'd been whacked with the cliché, stage "Makeup!" powder puff.

Hale watched closely, she could feel his eyes, as she laced her fingers through the chain link gate and leered through the metal wire at the three girls. "Well, I see Tig's mail order fuck buddies finally arrived," she said loudly, drawing a deep chuckle from Mayday and a sharp scowl from Hale. "Who gets to play the sheep? I hear that's his favorite Old MacDonald fantasy."

Stephanie snorted. "Do you think we came here to see you? I got enough of your lame ass in high school."

Anger flared and then died as Gemma's reminder of grace stirred in her mind. Ava leaned closer and smiled, speaking through her teeth so Hale couldn't hear a word of it. "So good to see you again, _Dani_, but I'm afraid Tux is about neck deep in pussy right now." Then she turned to the younger sister. "And you should talk to you old pal Jenny if you've forgotten what happens to people who try and fuck me over. That knife? I've still got it. And I can promise that I know where each and every one of you live. When you're alone. Don't think I won't stoop to your level."

The smug looks faded.

"'Fraid you girls will have to find another party tonight," she said loudly, pushing back. "This one's closed."

She didn't give them a chance to respond, instead turning and heading back towards the clubhouse, smiling when she was sure they could no longer see her. Mayday fell into step beside her, not commenting, but smiling too. It felt so damn good to be in a position of power for once. This was her turf and those bitches would play things her way.

It was a bit of a miracle, really, that it was only those three who'd shown up. When they had their huge bashes, music blaring and lights dancing, wannabe local rowdy types flocked to the closed gates, clamoring to be let in on all the excitement. More than a few local "good girls" had been soiled on nights like this, quickly learning that Tig wasn't some lost soul to be tamed, nor Bobby the gentlemanly "friend" they'd thought. Part of her wanted to shove all three of those girls in with the Sgt at Arms and lock the door, but she disliked them even more than that – too much so to even want them within the sacred, worn walls of the clubhouse.

Feeling happy and confident, it took her a moment to realize that it was her mother who charged towards her, clearly upset.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

**-O-**

Happy had a good buzz going, hopped up on good liquor and the insurmountable cheerful mood that permeated the clubhouse. He was listening with rapt attention as Tig spun the tale of his latest drunken exploit, when he saw first Maggie, and then Chibs go rushing out of the back hall and through the door. Tig and Bobby took notice too.

"Should we…?" Bobby waved a hand around.

"Yeah," Tig sighed, setting his beer down. "She's a scratcher."

Out in the parking lot, just beyond the cluster of drinking, laughing bodies, Maggie and Ava stood talking, arms gesticulating wildly, speech rapid fire. This was one of those times they appeared more girlfriends or sisters than mother and daughter. Chibs approached them and Ava stepped away from her mother, glaring at the Scotsman.

"Oh boy, domestic violence charges, here we go," Bobby muttered, shaking his head.

Obviously, Chibs had pissed off his Old Lady, who'd gone running to find the girl for some venting, and now Ava was all ready to defend her mom, getting between her parents. Happy was more than ready to stand back and let the family drama play out…until Chibs grabbed Ava roughly and tried to push her to the side.

Not cool.

**-O-**

From his position across the street, Hale could clearly see the scuffle that erupted, the bikers' dark silhouettes backlit by fire and dazzling holiday lights. He raised the radio clipped to his shoulder and thumbed the switch. "Requesting backup at 212 Thornleigh…I've got a domestic disturbance at Teller-Morrow."

**TBC**

**AN: **Before anyone gets too mad at Chibs, recall BWB, and this will all make sense. Full circle, I promise!


	47. Chapter 47

There was blood on the pavement, dark and slick as an oil spill, gleaming dully with the reflections of the thousands of twinkle lights. Ava studied it over her mother's shoulder as she held her, knowing who it belonged to and regretfully not caring. Maggie trembled, most likely with anger, but it was unnerving to be the one offering comfort instead of seeking it out.

It had been an ugly fight; Happy coming out of nowhere, shoving Chibs away. One second, he'd had a hand on Ava's wrist, trying to wrestle her from between him and Maggie, and then suddenly he wasn't there anymore, staggering across the lot with Hap after him. It hadn't been organized. All of Chibs' boxing experience was null and void as they had clawed and rolled and lunged at one another. Maggie and Ava had screamed for them to stop, Ava only able to worry about Hap's leg. And then Hale had been there, barking orders, scattering the Sons. Uniformed deputies had pulled the two brawling men apart and they'd been cuffed and marched down the lot. Hale had leaned in close, expression one of disapproval, and told Ava she could come bail them out the next morning.

She hadn't shed a tear, but Maggie shook. Ava's anger hadn't manifested itself physically yet and she patted her mom on the back. "It's okay," she soothed, feeling so out of place with this role reversal. She figured though, based on the shrieks about Fiona and all the arm waving, that Chibs was hung up on his wife again and that Maggie wasn't handling it well…at all.

"You're fine," she repeated, thankful to see Gemma come elbowing her way through the crowd.

"What the hell's this?" the Queen demanded. The party had been so thick with people, the music so loud, that those venturing outside were only now realizing that something had happened. "What's going on?"

Ava sighed, not releasing her mother just yet. "I think maybe we should find somewhere to sit down."

**-O-**

Well, wasn't this just cozy? The scene was all too familiar to Chibs as he stared through swelling eyelids at his cell mate. It was late, dark, the emergency lights in the tombs throwing a meager sheen over the polymer brick walls and floor. And across from him, also sitting on a hard cot with his head resting back against the cinderblocks, was another of those volatile, bloodthirsty Sons who put the 'Anarchy' in SOA. Last time, it had been Tig – who'd once fucked his new girlfriend. This time, it was Happy – who was now fucking his daughter. Wasn't he ever going to get some goddamn peace?

Unlike Tig, Happy didn't want to goad him into further argument, and Chibs was too tired and didn't care enough to get into it. His head still rang from the force of the other man's blows. He supposed he'd had this coming; since that night Hap had gone limp in the ring, and before then even, when the Tacoma killer had been pressed upon a baby girl and told to guard her with his life. Chibs couldn't even have a contained family argument without Ava's Cujo coming to her defense. Moving forward, that mean, tattooed son of a bitch would always be between him and Ava – any chance of ever being a real father to her gone forever.

And now his other daughter was crying for his help. He hadn't even known her voice it had been so long. Helping her would put the club in a lurch with the new IRA boss, who, for now, hadn't turned his gaze to California yet. But leaving her to fend for herself would be sinful…just as bad as letting Maggie go up north all those years ago. Of course…he scowled at the man across from him…Kerianne didn't have one of _those _snarling at the end of a chain-studded leash.

He realized too late that Hap had seen him and then the Nomad returned the hard look. "What?" he snorted. His face was untouched, clothes not sporting any of his own blood – only Chibs' – but he was favoring his bum leg. Damnit, now he'd have to answer to Ava when he admitted that he'd ruined her plaything's fucking leverage. Just damn him!

Chibs didn't answer, choosing to stare out through the bars of the cell.

"That was a mistake," Hap said, gravelly voice echoing off the walls. "I don't care who you are, you don't _touch _her that way."

Chibs grunted his understanding. "I wasn't angry with her," he admitted. There was no hope, really, of getting back on steady footing with this guy, but maybe he could at least take the edge off. "Her mum's unreasonable and I just…" he shrugged lamely.

"She won't ever be okay with Fiona."

Chibs nodded.

"Kinda like you won't ever be okay with me."

He glanced across sharply at the killer. Well, as sharply as he could considering his headache and sluggish vision.

Hap titled his head and smirked knowingly. "Right?"

"You do piss me off," he consented. "I just want them to be content. I wanted Ava to find a nice boy to take care of her."

Happy snorted. "Ain't a nice boy in the world who can handle her."

"Too much like her mother that way."

They were silent a moment, the quiet spell feeling somewhat less hostile. It really was a strange predicament they were in. Chibs and his two families. Hap and his perverse attachment to the girl he'd helped raise. None of it made sense and it was all caving in around them, threatening to swallow them whole. Chibs loved Maggie, loved both his daughters, and had an Irishwoman he couldn't seem to cut out of the mix. He was damn close to not having either one of them. And then here was the Nomad, not a Son he'd ever been close to like Jax or Opie, both of them suddenly thrust together; peers and father-in-law, son-in-law almost. It made his already pounding head hurt worse.

"Don't think on it too hard," Hap suggested. "Maggie ain't my burden. But when you involve Ava…I'll put you down every time. Daughter or not."

**-O-**

The overhead lighting was harsh in Estelle's diner, but it was the only place still open at one thirty a.m. Ava shared a quiet look with Gemma across their slice of pie as Maggie continued to stare blankly at the dessert.

"We've been here for almost an hour, babe," Gemma prodded. "You wanna tell us? Or should I order some cheesecake too?"

With a weary, rattling sigh, Maggie picked her fork up off the table and scooped a bite of apple pie off the dish. "That Irish bitch," she swallowed and made a face ", has her hooks in him again. He wants to bring her stateside. Can you believe that shit?"

They drew a curious look from the trucker at the counter and Ava touched her mom's arm. "Listening ears," she reminded, again struck by how damn parental she felt in this whole thing.

Maggie snorted, but lowered her voice. "Told me it wasn't my decision, that he could help them and I had no say in it. That's a security risk to have them here. What, are they just supposed to live in Charming? Why don't we just move to Utah and he can have as many wives as he wants."

"It's not like that," Gemma shook her head. "Don't make it smart, but he isn't trying to bring her back into his life."

Ava was angry for her mother, but not so much for herself. Chibs had never been able to look after her properly – that was what Happy was for – but the thought of him hurting Maggie this way pissed her off. Not to mention the dumb move bringing them to the US would be. "Won't that just draw the Irish back here? We just got rid of that shit, like Mom and I want those assholes sniffing on our trail again."

Maggie nodded vigorously. "He's such a dam soft-hearted fool! We finally have a little peace around here. We can be comfortable again. He could have grandchildren."

Ava choked on her coffee.

"Not now, I don't mean," Maggie corrected, thumping her on the back. Some of her irrational anger seemed to ebb, even as Ava struggled to catch her breath. "Those two can't be here. He can help them somehow, but if they lead the Irish back to the Sons…then, shit, all we've done the past few months will have been for nothing. We'll go back to living in fear."

Recovered somewhat, Ava nodded. "Things just got settled around here."

"That's an oxymoron for ya; _settled_ and _here_," Gemma said, waving a bite of pie around on the end of her fork.

Maggie groaned and put her forehead in her hand. "Why does he have to be so goddamn decent? Why can't he just throw them to the wolves and forget about them?"

"That's just not his way," Ava said quietly. "I mean…" she cringed, hating to side with her father on this, but knowing that there was no better place for Maggie and Chibs to be than with each other. Like Jax and Tara, like Happy and her, there just wasn't anyone else. "Mom, you two lasted those years we were in Seattle. And that was with two states in between you. Can two Irish chicks really get between you?"

Her mother gave her a sideways look. "Thanks, Dr. Phyllis."

She glanced up and saw Gemma looking at her with Queenly approval. "You were so supportive of Hap and me. So this is me being supportive of you and dad. At least try and talk to him."

"Yeah, I 'm sure you and Loverboy have so many deep _talks_."

Ava shrugged.

"I'm sure Tig walked in on one of your _talks _and was laughing about that all afternoon."

Now she blushed, at least thankful to see a hint of a smile on Maggie's face. "He walked in after the _talk_, not during."

Gemma smirked. "I remember those days."

Maggie laughed and nodded, finally sitting up straight against the booth. "Oh, Jesus. Why does it have to be so hard?"

"Not sure it would do any good if it was soft," Ava deadpanned, earning a light, backward slap and a chuckle from her mom and cousin.

The waitress arrived with a fresh pot of coffee. "Get you girls anything else?" she inquired, sounding like she hoped they didn't as she refilled the mugs.

"Cheesecake," Gemma said. "It's been an interesting night."

**-O-**

"How's the leg?"

Hap stretched his knee, masking his wince as the joint grabbed. Bones couldn't hurt, but he felt a bit like he'd pulled everything around them; hamstring, quad. He was going to be more than a little tender the next day, especially after sitting in a cramped cell all night. He shrugged. "Fine."

"Ava won't talk to me again if she thinks I got you hurt," Chibs pressed. "What's it feel like?"

"Like I got in a fight with some shithead for shovin' my girl around." His voice was calm though, no trace of anger.

Chibs rolled his shoulders – he'd done that a hundred times so far – and again stared out through the bars of their cell. It was so quiet, no other miscreants on ice alongside them. They could have easily been put in separate cells, so this togetherness was starting to make Happy think that he needed to say something productive.

Somehow, in all of this, he and Chibs had ended up on opposite sides of the same coin; both caring about someone in common, but disagreeing because of it. A year ago, he'd been leaving, not able to get things straight. Now it was Chibs up in the air, floundering.

"You know," he said before he could help himself. "When Ava was about…hmmm…four I think, Maggie tried to jump my bones one night."

_That _got the Scotsman's attention. He stirred to life on his cot, purple-ringed eyes narrowing even further if that was possible. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Easy," Hap held up a hand. "Nothin' happened. I've never felt that way about her."

Chibs growled low in his throat. "You after a two-for-one? Cocksucker."

"Nah," Hap stayed calm. "Just listen a sec. Maggie's a jealous woman. She needs all this," he gestured unknowingly with his hands ", _love_ or some shit. She waits as best she can, but you keep puttin' her through this Fiona bullshit…she won't wait forever. She'll move on. And you might not like your replacement because she damn sure can't stand civilians."

Chibs was quiet a long moment. "You tried to fuck her?"

"No. She tried to fuck me. And it didn't go anywhere."

Chibs shook his head and averted his gaze to the floor, some of the fight leaving him. "When I was in Belfast, I think…I mean…I suspected that…" he let it hang, but Hap knew what he was referring to; knew that it had actually occurred. No one could touch the Scot in Maggie's eyes, but he always kept her worrying, and her insecurities led her to make bad decisions. Like Tig. Over and over.

"It's like I'm gettin' pulled in two," Chibs confessed sadly.

"It's really not that complicated."

His head snapped up. "Yeah? And how would you know? You spent a year runnin' from Ava, breakin' her heart."

Happy shrugged. "So I suck, we both know that. But this is you we're talkin' about. You gotta get all that goddamn noise outta your head. Decide what's most important to you, and then whatever else you do, you make that your priority."

"Just like that, huh?"

"Hey, my priority landed me a night in a cell. What do you think?"

**-O-**

Though tired, sleep hadn't felt like an option for either of them. Maggie and Ava were spread out on the living room floor, the CD books open, stereo playing. Ava had a couch pillow under her chest as she lay on her stomach. Maggie was on her back, feet propped on the edge of the coffee table. A bottle of white wine and a six-pack of 7Up rested carefully between them on the carpet, their spritzers having mellowed them out considerably.

"What's he like?" Maggie asked after a quiet spell. "Happy. In bed."

Another night, another level of sobriety, Ava might have been reluctant to answer. Now, she swirled the contents of her glass and wrinkled up her brow, thinking.

"I don't need the gory details," Maggie clarified.

"No, it's okay. I was trying to put it together in my head." Over the speakers, the opening notes of Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide" were comforting. "He's very intense," she said finally. "He has really quiet, sweet moments, but most of the time…" a pleasant shiver rippled through her ", he's very _forward_."

Maggie chuckled. "He looks like he'd be an animal."

"Oh, we're never gonna quit, ain't nothin' wrong with it, just acting like we're animals," Ava recited the Nickelback lyrics in monotone, making both of them chuckle. The wine was making her face feel flushed. Or maybe that was just thinking about Happy. "I know I don't have anything to compare him to," she went on ", but in my humble opinion, he's pretty damn good."

Maggie nodded.

_I took my love and I took it down._

_I Climbed a mountain and I turned around…_

"Sometimes," Ava continued, even softer than before. "I wish he was as sucked in by this whole thing as I am. You know? That he was just as scary, head-over-heels, needed to touch me every second. But I love him so much anyway that it doesn't matter."

_Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?_

_Can the child within my heart rise above?_

_Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?_

_Can I handle the seasons of my life?_

"Oh, baby," Maggie rolled her head towards her. "If you knew how much he fucking adores you. The way he looks at you. You can't expect him to change, but the love's there. It's so there."

_Well I been 'fraid of changing_

'_Cause I built my life around you._

_But time makes you older,_

_Children get older,_

_And I'm getting older, too…_

"I'm sorry you and Dad are fighting. It's not fair to you."

"None of it's fair, babe. Not to anyone."

"He does love you," Ava prodded. "He wouldn't get so angry if he didn't."

Maggie closed her eyes and Ava saw silent tears track down her cheeks. "I hate being mad at him," she said, voice trembling. "I don't like waking up without him. I don't like to see him sad."

The stress and the wine and the anger were all swirling together in her now. Suddenly Ava realized what she herself had looked like for all those miserable months when Happy had been stringing her along. She rose, set her glass on the table and stretched out beside her mom, putting a comforting arm around her. "Please, you guys need to talk," she urged. "I'm mad at him too, but you're good together."

_Well maybe…_

_Well maybe…_

_Well maybe…_

"Yeah. Okay."

_The landslide will bring you…down._

**-O-**

Dawn was sharp and cold when it came, the air clean and almost smelling of frost. Ava ventured alone into the precinct, the envelope of cash clenched tightly in one fist. It was quiet inside, a few deputies shuffling around and sipping coffee out of paper cups. The officer behind the desk looked like he wished she wasn't there.

"Help you?"

"Yeah," she slapped the envelope onto the counter. "I'm here to post bail for Telford and Morales."

He looked at her dubiously, brows raised. "How old are you?"

She sighed and pushed back the hood of her zippered sweatshirt. "Old enough. You can get Chief Hale if you'd like, but I was told my father and boyfriend could be released this morning."

"Oh." His eyes widened. "_Oh. _Um, yeah, hold on a sec."

She waited while he printed out her receipt and then went to collect the brawlers. Chibs looked tired, his face all bruised, but Ava's eyes skipped right over him and landed on Hap, who wasn't marked, but limped. She fidgeted until they were around to the "free" side of the counter and then she rushed to him.

"What did you do to your leg?" she groaned, bending as if she meant to touch the wounded limb.

"It's fine," he said, urging her back up with a flick of his fingers.

She wasn't convinced though, barely registering her father's light touch on her shoulder before he left the building. She turned so she could keep slow pace with Happy as they followed. His arm settled across her shoulders. "How is he?" Ava asked, watching through the glass door as her parents spotted one another and just sort of froze.

"They need some alone time."

**-O-**

He looked like shit; tired, beat to a pulp, greasy and in need of a shower. Still, Maggie's stomach did a little anxious flip as she set her purse on the counter and then waited, listening to him close and lock the back door. The ride back to the house had been silent, not even the radio to preoccupy her thoughts. The night before, with Ava and that damn "Landslide" song that always made her want to cry, she'd fully embraced the idea of hugging him and getting it over with, just caving. But in the harsh light of morning, it was harder to forgive all the little sins.

"I -,"

"I -,"

They started at the same time and Maggie whirled around, putting her back to the counter. God, Happy had done a number on his face. Turnabout she supposed, but still…it hurt her to see him that way. She reached a tentative hand forward, intending to touch his cheek, but her fingers closed around the silver cross he wore instead. The one she'd given him. Nineteen years ago.

Nineteen years.

"I know you worry about Kerianne," she said in a sudden rush, smoothing her hand across the blood-spattered front of his shirt. "I do. And you…you…should be able to take care of her." She was staring at the little dark edges of ink she could see on his chest and his curled knuckle lifted her head so they were eye-to-swollen eye. "But don't put us in danger again. Not Ava. Please, baby, I can't deal with Fiona, you know I can't, I just…can't."

In answer, he pulled her tight against him in a hug, one arm around her waist, a hand cradling the back of her head. "Aye. I know, luv."

Maggie slipped her arms inside his cut, pressing her face into the leather over his shoulder. She inhaled the familiar smell of him, not wanting to let go, feeling like she hadn't touched him in weeks.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against her hair.

She kissed his Redwood patches, dug her fingertips into his back. "Are we ever gonna get this right?"

"Nope. You're too stubborn."

"Me?" she pushed back, suddenly not so desperate. He was smiling though. "Don't you dare tell me about stubborn."

There was no protest in her, though, when he kissed her. As he pushed her into the counter, the laminate edge digging into her spine, she realized a fight never killed anybody. In fact, sometimes, it was downright healthy.

**-O-**

Happy sat on the edge of the bed in his dorm, looking down at the girl in slight humor as she passed her hands up the inside of his jeans leg, fingers running deliciously over the still-weak muscles. Ava was studying him intently, testing and prodding under the guise of a massage.

"Are you sure you're okay? We can go to the doctor if you want."

"Ava." Her head snapped up. "Stop."

Sighing, she climbed back up to the bed beside him. She looked tired this morning, not all full of swag the way she had been the night before. He studied her profile, watched her stifle a yawn. The pain that throbbed in his leg was an obvious, unrelenting reminder that he was forty-five, that she was eighteen, and his time card would get punched much, much sooner than hers. When he became old – if he was afforded that luxury – God, was he going to get old? Would he rot away and leave her to rub, soothe, medicate, nurse him along until the end?

"You pissed?" he asked, reaching to tuck a stray, oddly wavy strand of hair behind her ear.

She looked surprised when she faced him. "No. Dad was being an asshole. Of course not."

He sighed. There was that worship again. So long as he was on good footing with her, nothing he did in reference to anyone else could shake her faith in him. It was going to absolutely kill her when he kicked off eventually. He could see her, skinny, starving herself, sobbing, not leaving their bed, wherever it was, clutching one of his shirts. It was so pathetic and heartbreaking an image. He had kept her sheltered from Irish assassins, an unable father, an emotional mother…from everything. But sitting here, his leg reminding him of his age and mortality, he knew he couldn't save her from what his impending death would do to her. At some point, when he was feeling more confident in his resilience, he'd find a time to sit down with one of his brothers. With…it pained him to think it…Juice. Yeah. It had to be him. If and when…but only then, not now. Not before. But it would be him.

And whatever Chibs decided about Fiona and Kerianne, if he didn't like it, he'd take her away. Change her name. She could play Ava Morales for a little while. But the Irish would never threaten her again.

"C'mere."

She leaned over, her tired eyes starting to sparkle just a bit. But he kissed her forehead and then lay back on the bed, pulling her with him. She was still a moment, surprised, but then she pulled on his hand and he let it go limp. Ava laid his fingers over her chest, hers over top, just because she liked the contact.

"When does school start back?"

She sighed, moving his willing hand, sliding it down the front of her shirt. Damn…she liked for him to touch her. He obliged, going deeper, pushing down one of her bra cups and palming her breast. "Second week of January," she said, breath catching a moment at the contact.

He nodded. "A'ight. Get signed up or whatever the fuck you gotta do. I was serious about school, Ava." Because when he was gone, she was going to have some prospects for the future, goddamnit.

**-O-**

Ava didn't know why, but he was different with her that morning. The sex was slow, each thrust well-measured as he cradled her body under his and moved like a wave over her. Her building pleasure like a tide that came and receded, lapping at orgasm just a little more each time.

It was still intense though; his fingers in her hair, his teeth on her neck. Their breaths came in ragged pulls. He met her eyes every so often, darker than black in the shadowy dorm room. She clawed at the bunching muscles in his shoulders, squeezed his waist with her thighs.

"What's gotten into you?" she asked, breathless in the aftermath, Hap still poised above her, his arms circled around her. She traced his bristly jaw with a thumb, searching this new, almost vulnerable expression on his face for a clue.

"Nothin'," he said.

She didn't believe him, but was content to fold her arms around his neck when he settled in to use her hair for a pillow. She loved when he rested some of his weight on her, let her feel how solid he was. How alive. The pale light coming through the blinds highlighted the gray in the hair he still hadn't shaved and she shivered, not liking the reminder of his age. He would never seem _old _to her. She'd take care of him when the time came, but her heart ached to think about it. She prayed for his leg and continued vitality every night.

_Time makes you older, children get older, and I'm getting older, too…_

The lyric came back to her, teasing her almost. God, she didn't ever want to lose him.

"You cold?" he shifted his head so he could see her.

She offered a smile. "No," she only partially lied. "Just want you again."

**TBC**

**AN: **Almost done, guys. Coming down the home stretch and trying to finish before S3 starts!


	48. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer: **The magazine mentioned near the end is fictional.

**AN: **Chibs and Maggie's dilemma will get talked about next time.

**January 2014**

Pens, notebook, sketch pad, snack – Little Debbie Nutty Bars – and…Ava scanned the bedroom, eyes picking through the hastily stripped clothes from the night before, the unpacked duffels from Charming, the tangled sheets. What did she need? What did she…_Aha! _She bent and retrieved her boots from the beneath the bed, sitting down on the rumpled covers to tug them on over her skinny jeans.

In high school, her every morning anxiety had been just that; anxiety. Now though, the swirling tangle of butterflies in her stomach was the product of honest excitement. Today, instead of the clique games and bad cafeteria food, the jocks and bitches, the geeks and skaters, the laborious stint of six classes, none of which were challenging, she had a morning of actual learning ahead of her. Like a big dork, she was looking forward to the lectures and the note taking. She'd done that before, last semester, but she hadn't been excited. It hadn't been like this. She hadn't had –

"Babe?" Hap called loudly, gruff voice echoing from the bathroom.

Ava smiled as she stood and shouldered her bag and purse. Before, she hadn't had _Happy_, not really anyway, and that made all the difference. "What?" she asked, leaning in the open bathroom doorway.

Hap was in front of the mirror, shirtless and shaving his head – she was glad to have the old look back – and glanced at her by way of his reflection as he rinsed his razor under the tap. He'd been scowling and frowning all morning, and now was no different. Last night had been fun, very fun, but all that playfulness was gone from him as he glared at her. Ava bit back a smile, feeling like she knew the source of his bad mood.

"What time will you be back?" he asked, reaching up to drag the razor across his creamed scalp again.

"A little after two, I think. First day is always the easiest." She folded her arms and leaned against the jamb, now having to work even harder to keep from smiling as he grumbled nastily under his breath.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but continued with his task. Ava didn't want to leave him like this, but she needed to get on the road. Parking would be a nightmare. "Well," she stalled, fiddling with the zipper of her petite, fitted riding jacket. "I gotta go, okay?"

Happy set down his razor with a snort. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

This time, she did smile. They'd been back in Sacramento for a week, sorting things out with the super, meeting with her advisor, grocery shopping. And there had been lots and lots of sex. Traditional bedroom sex, kitchen counter sex, couch sex in the middle of the Pay Per View porno Hap had insisted they purchase and watch together. He'd been pawing at her within the first scene.

It had been a nice few days, better than nice. When Ava's alarm had started to blare that morning, she'd come to realizing that Hap was wrapped around her; one leg over her hips, an arm around her chest, his face in her hair. In between all the rounds of fucking that week, there had been quiet, easy stretches of silence; watching TV, talking about this and that, sitting outside on the landing with a six-pack of Budweiser. Somehow, all of that had translated to an even deeper bond than she'd thought possible. And when they were alone, any qualms Hap had ever possessed about showing her physical affection were gone. It was common now to wake tangled up together in the mornings. Ava had known that going back to a routine would be difficult – missing out on all that together time – but she hadn't anticipated it making Hap so grumpy too. Obviously, it had.

"I won't be gone that long," she assured, stepping into the bathroom and running a hand down the sinewy muscles alongside his spine. She sighed. Touching him was bad. Touching led to other things, things that would make her late to class. But she loved the way his body felt under her hands. "Pick out something to watch," she suggested, smile changing meanings as she met his gaze through the mirror. "We can have _movie _time when I get back."

He narrowed his eyes, but smirked. "You up for a little girl-on-girl?"

She pressed in close to him, reaching around and laying a hand on the front of his jeans. "So long as I'm not one of the girls…and I still get to play with _this_…I'll watch anything you want, killa."

"Oh," he wiped the excess shaving cream off his head with a towel ", you shouldn't a said that."

"Why not?" she played innocent, laughing as she titled her head back to stare up at him.

He tangled a hand in the loose, silky sheet of her hair. "Now you're gonna be late."

**-O-**

So much for the whole note taking/learning fantasy. Ava wished she'd just let Hap put her up against the bathroom mirror like he'd wanted to. Because now, unsatisfied, she was also damn near quaking with nervousness. How could she have forgotten about the get-to-know-you game? How, after enduring that shit the first time around at school, could she have forgotten that she would be forced to stand in front of all fifty other students in the class, recite her name, home town, major, and one interesting fact about herself?

_Let's see…interesting fact…my boyfriend is twenty-seven years older than I am. I come from a family of outlaw bikers. I shot two guys over holiday break. My dad is Scottish former IRA. Yeah fucking right!_

Ava squirmed as the girl two seats in front of her stood. "Hi, my name is Kelly. I'm nineteen and majoring in…"

Blah, blah, blah, whatever. Ava unzipped her jacket, even though it was goddamn freezing in the classroom. Only then she realized that she was wearing this fitted, low-cut Harley-Davidson shirt underneath with little feminine swirls over the white fabric. Couple that with the boots, the dark eye makeup and she was a painfully obvious embodiment of a biker's Old Lady. She wished she'd worn something different. She hated fielding those biker chick questions. Did people honestly think she looked like one of those women who _rode _a bike? She hoped not.

God, it was so hot in here, even though it wasn't, though that made no sense. She fanned the halves of her jacket, trying to get some air flow. From the corner of her eye, she could see the guy beside her shooting her covert glances every so often. Shit, why did she always have to draw attention? She left other people alone, why couldn't they leave her alone? She hated this. Get-to-know-you games were such, such bullshit.

And then, to her horror, the soft spoken, beady eyed professor was staring kindly at her, roster poised to check off her name once she revealed it to him. Her nervousness doubled. She and Hap had talked this through in calm, unemotional tones. She wasn't dumb to his ways; she knew that the form she'd filed with the courthouse didn't mean anything. It was just a change of letters, not of meaning. She didn't have a ring. No dress. No flowers. Not even a license. This wasn't legally binding, till death do us part, to have and to hold. He had not married her. It had been about security and keeping her off the Irish radar.

Still, her heart knocked against her ribs as she stood and smoothed clammy palms down the thighs of her jeans. "Hi." Her voice was almost a croak. She swallowed, desperate now. "I'm Ava…" she took a deep breath ", Morales."

And then she just stopped, stupidly, as a smile crept across her face. Boy, that sounded good. A girl could dream. The professor nodded and she realized she had to say more.

"Oh, um, I'm eighteen and a freshman. Majoring in journalism with a minor in English literature. And I…" she winced, searching ", like to draw," she finished lamely.

"Is that all?" the professor asked.

It was an innocent question, but it made Ava feel even more inadequate about what she'd said. She glanced across the sea of heads in the room; half of them weren't even facing her. No one pointed a finger. No one accused her of anything or sneered. And likewise, no one seemed to be that interested in a positive way either. She wondered if she should dare to hope that this semester might be uneventful. And why shouldn't it be? This was just school. She didn't hang any hopes and dreams on this place; neither did she anticipate creating any problems. She didn't _need _school; the drama, the friends, the fallouts. She was here for an education and nothing else. She already had everything she needed; acceptance, love, and affection.

"Yes," she said, offering him a smile, and taking her seat again.

**-O-**

It was a little sad that Happy had become bored so easily. He'd spent the majority of his life alone in some fashion, and here he was, eleven a.m. and unable to sit still, itching for Ava to come back. Not, he told himself in a very stern mental voice, because he was going soft, but because he wanted to finish what the little tease had started that morning.

Oddly though, he didn't feel as cagey as he would have thought. He'd more or less consented to living here in Sacramento with her when he wasn't on the road, and while he had expected to feel claustrophobic about that, he didn't. Ava was just so damn easy. Still couldn't cook worth a shit, but she was still young enough that she didn't get bent out of shape about his boxers left behind on the bathroom floor. Didn't boss him around. She loved to fuck. Watched horror movies and action flicks with him. Just so easy that he liked having her around more than he liked his alone time. And he wanted her to come home, like now, damnit, so she'd put on one of those matching push-up bra and thong sets that made her look like a Victoria's Secret Angel and watch porn with him.

But he still had an hour or three until that happened. So instead he took his ratchet set and went out to fiddle with his bike for awhile. It was a bright afternoon – clear and cloudless – but cool. It meant there weren't any gawkers out in the parking lot to bug the piss out of him about what kind of bike he rode, was he like, a "real" biker, what did "reaper of death" mean? This was one of the things he hated about apartment complexes; public parking.

He was crouched down, trying to decide if he needed new valve stem covers, when he saw the distorted reflection of someone standing behind him.

**-O-**

Ava sighed gratefully when she stepped out of her third and last class of the day. It was pretty pathetic that she was so ready to be done after only three classes, but school had never been her thing. And it didn't help the cause considering what she had waiting back at the apartment for her.

She dug her phone out of her purse to make her mandatory call to Hap, let him know she was fine and done and on her way back. Her heart rate spiked, though, when she opened her silenced phone and saw that she had _nine _missed calls, all of them from Happy.

She pressed one on her speed dial and walked anxiously toward the door of the English building, already starting to panic at the prospect of what could have happened. Shit, had he pushed his leg too hard? Was he sick? Was something going on in Charming?

"Hey," he answered on the second ring. His voice was flat, even, not stressed.

"What's wrong? Why'd you call so many times?" Ava said in a rush, punching through the door, sending another student staggering backwards. She didn't pause to offer an apology, hustling across the sidewalk. "Hap?"

From the other end, he sighed loudly, the breath rasping across the receiver. She could picture the expression that went along with that sound and it wasn't one of pain or worry, but tired frustration. She calmed just at that knowledge. "You have a visitor," he grumbled. "And I'm tired of dealin' with her."

**-O-**

"And then," Caroline snatched another Kleenex from the box Ava held for her, blowing her nose loudly. "You just won't believe this! That asshole tried to put it off on me! He said I let him appear 'too available'. Can you believe that?"

Ava hadn't talked to her friend in a while, since some time after their great big falling out over Happy's October visit. She didn't look so good now; the roots showing on the chunks of hair she'd died blue, her usually dark-ringed eyes makeup free. She had been crying for about two solid hours now, and that was just since Ava had arrived. Hap had told her she'd been crying since she came up to him in the parking lot. Ava knew Hap was pissed, that he would just as soon throw Caroline out on her ass, but he'd let her stay, was lounging unobtrusively in the bedroom because she was her friend, and he cared about her. That warm little knot of knowledge was burning through her, an appreciation for his consideration, and it was making it hard for her to fully sympathize with Caroline.

Her boyfriend, that skinny, sniveling little punk Adam who Ava had never really liked, had cheated on her. And Caroline was devastated. They'd lived together. Taken classes together. He'd gone back to Charming to meet the family, had given her a promise ring, whatever the fuck that meant. And then, apparently, Caroline had found him with another girl in their shared apartment when she'd come home early. Her class had been cancelled and Adam's true nature had been revealed.

"He's such a scumbag," Ava ventured, not sure yet if this was an _I miss Adam_ spiel, or an _Adam is a major douche_ spiel.

"He's an asshole," Caroline spat. Definitely the douche spiel. She turned watery, red-rimmed eyes up to meet Ava's. "God, Ava, how could I have missed this? I feel so stupid."

"You're not stupid," Ava patted her on the knee. "Men are dogs and this kind of shit happens. It doesn't make you dumb if he obviously hid it so well."

"But did he? Or were there signs all along that I ignored? I just don't know anymore."

Heavy footsteps across the linoleum of the little kitchenette drew Ava's attention and she glanced up to see Hap with his face pressed to the window in the oven. She could smell the garlic on the DiGiorno she was warming. "What's in the oven?" he asked, interrupting whatever Caroline had been about to say.

"Pizza," she offered, then turned to her friend, offering the tissue box again. "_None _of this is your fault. If he -,"

"What kinda pizza? It smells funny."

"It's a chicken and feta flatbread thing. It'll taste good, promise." She smiled apologetically. "Caro -,"

"What the fuck's feta?"

Wordlessly, Ava climbed off the couch, walked to the kitchenette, opened the stove and waved towards the still partially frozen pizza inside. When she glanced at Happy, he was glaring at her. "Satisfied?"

"No," he said. "I wanted porn and pussy. I'm not satisfied." He held the hard look a moment longer, then pulled a beer out of the fridge and retreated to the bedroom.

Ava sighed to herself as she returned to the sofa. She was going to have to make their missed date up later. "Sorry," she said as she sat beside her friend one more. "He gets cranky."

Caroline shook her head and dabbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on you guys like this. Shit, I think he wanted to slap me when I showed up. Oh," she glanced up sheepishly. "Not that, I mean, I didn't mean that…"

"It's fine," Ava said with a small smile. "Not many people understand him, so no worries."

"No," Caroline shook her head again, harder this time. "That's one of the things I feel so awful about. I was so bad to you, Ava," she closed her eyes and more tears escaped. "About you and him. I moved out! I didn't even call you! And now look at me and look at you."

"You can't compare -,"

"No! I was shitty to you about your guy. And he's still with you. And my_ loving_ boyfriend's been fucking everything he could get his hands on."

"Caroline," she sighed and put a hand on her shoulder, drawing her gaze again. "I'm not mad, okay? What happened with us…that shit just happens. I don't know anyone who would have stuck around after that night." She nearly shuddered at the memory of Hap's rage, of what he'd unleashed upon her because of it. "You can't ever compare what Hap and I have to anything normal. And you shouldn't use it as the 'good' to the 'bad' that happened to you."

Caroline frowned, the flow of her tears slackening. "I never said you were abnormal."

Ava rolled her eyes. "You don't have to. Go on, tell me how weird it is."

She looked away. "Well…he _is _too old for you. And he scares the shit out of me."

Ava nodded. "Yep. Hold on a sec."

She went to the bedroom, not surprised to see Happy on the bed, lost in a bike magazine, pointedly ignoring her as she pulled her old photo album out of the top of the closet. His sour mood couldn't spoil hers however as she returned to the couch and passed a hand lovingly over the leather cover of the old album. "Mom started this for me when I was a baby," she explained, lifting the cover and exposing the first, yellowed, peeling page of plastic-sleeved pictures. "And this," she flipped until she found the photo she was looking for. "Aha. Here we go."

Its edges curling, a water stain marring one corner, possibly the very first picture in which she'd ever appeared with Happy stared up at them. She was about six months old, he was twenty-eight and holding her up snug against his shoulder, looking at and talking to someone off camera. It was candid and innocent, making everything about their current situation of "porn and pussy" ten different kinds of wrong.

"Oh, God," Caroline said. "Is that you?"

"Uh-huh." She glanced sideways at her friend and found her slack-jawed. "When I said I'd known him my whole life, I meant it. He was like an uncle. Or a father figure. And now he's…" she sighed ", explaining it is strange and difficult. There are so many different types of love going on that I can't separate them."

Caroline met her gaze, now wide-eyed and unemotional.

"We're not typical. Or acceptable. And I don't know anyone who would even want what we have. What _I do _know, is that I haven't been where you've been, not exactly, but you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. Happy's an asshole, but he does love me, and he wouldn't do to me what Adam did to you. Don't get too depressed because he obviously wasn't the one."

She sighed and nodded. "So you, you know he's the one? For good?"

"Absolutely."

**-O-**

"So? What's the verdict?"

Happy stared at the slice of flatbread pizza in his hand like it was something he'd scraped off the bottom of his shoe. He swallowed the bite in his mouth, though, and shrugged. "It ain't real pizza. It's too chick-like. But it's a'ight."

Chick-like pizza. Because everyone knew that particular pizzas were gender specific. Ava shook her head as she bit into her own, sinking down lower on the sofa. Her stocking feet were propped up on the shitty, garage sale coffee table, right beside his. Their beers were leaving sweat stains on the wood.

"See," she nudged him with her elbow. "It's good."

"Then why'd you only eat half a piece?" he nudged her back, much harder than she'd nudged him, making her chuckle. The skipped porn appeared to be all forgiven. She was rapidly learning that he couldn't stay mad at her for longer than about ten minutes.

"Because I'm full. And because you'd bitch me out if I ate as much as you and got all fat."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Hey!"

"What? You couldn't get fat if you tried. Look like you're goddamn anor-whateverthefuck they call it."

Ava leaned her head back against the cushions, sighing. "Hey, Hap? Thanks for being good to Caroline today."

"Bitch didn't deserve it," he said. "But…"

She rolled her head to the side so she could watch his expression.

"…you like her. I mean, you still like her, right? 'Cause if not -,"

"Yes, I still like her." She stared at him, watching the muscles in his jaw flex as he put waaaaaay too big of a bite in his mouth at once. Everything to extremes with him. As calm as he appeared outwardly, he craved speed, hard sex, too much beer, too much sleep, too much anger sometimes. And had too much heart where it concerned her. Here he was, living in Sacramento, at home waiting on her when she came back from school, once again that strange mix of dad/uncle/lover that bound them so tightly together. She'd never loved him more than she did now in an oil-spattered shirt with marinara sauce in the corner of his mouth.

"Hey," she said softly, pulling his attention. She pushed her half-empty plate off onto the cushion beside her, leaning up to kiss the sauce off of him, tongue lingering over his skin. He tasted like pizza, beer and cigarette smoke, had a smudge of grease on his chin that her hand skimmed across when she couldn't resist touching his face.

There was a rattle of cheap china that signaled his plate on the table, and then he was pushing her back, her own plate digging into her spine, but whatever. Her sated appetite had returned full force – only not for food. She arched into him, fingers curling up into the fabric of his shirt as he deepened the kiss.

Something wet slipped across her throat and her eyes opened. What was…? Oh shit, she realized with slightly disgusted amusement. He had grease _all over _his hands. Maybe some sauce too. Oh man, his hands were really dirty.

She didn't realize she was laughing until he had pulled away, braced above her on his arms. "What?" he was indignant at the interruption.

Ava tried and failed to get control of her giggles. "Look at your hands!" she said between chuckles.

He held them up, nose wrinkling when he caught sight of the pizza carnage. "Damn."

"C'mon," she lifted her hips, urging him up. "Let's take this party to the shower."

He nodded. "Okay." Then he grinned.

"Wha -," she gasped as he rubbed the messy ends of his fingers down her face. "What the hell?"

"Aw, get over it. I thought you liked bein' dirty."

**-O-**

Happy might have let her bawl on the sofa, but he wasn't about to let Caroline move back in with them. Ava was spared giving her friend the news when she learned that she was renting a room in a house right off campus. Though their time spent together was short and scattered, it was nice to have a girlfriend again. There were just some things Hap wouldn't talk about.

Ava settled into her class routine, though in the middle of her fourth week back, it became impossible to ignore the school paper issue further. Her entire class was lined up between the rows of desks, waiting for their names to be called so they could accept their first graded and returned writing prompts. Ava was picking at her chipped silver fingernail polish, not worried since it was a relatively simple assignment, and didn't start to fret until she realized she was the only one whose name hadn't been called.

"Miss Morales," Professor Cross waved the last paper in his hand and smiled. "Can I have a moment?"

Ava walked down the aisle of the now empty classroom, already wondering if this was one of those profs looking for a little "extra incentive" to boost her grade in the class. _I think not, you ugly pervert _she thought to herself as she drew up to his desk.

Her suspicions were allayed, however, when Professor Cross moved back behind his podium after handing over her paper. "I wanted to talk to you, Ava, about your lack of involvement with the school paper." It was said kindly though, his little frown hesitant. "The other professors and I have encouraged inquiries by all the students."

"Well, I'm just a freshman, so what are the odds of me even landing a spot, right?"

He conceded her point with a nod. "Still, that's the ultimate goal, am I right? Spot on the staff. Everyone gunning to be editor. I know we aren't one of the big schools, but being an overachiever will look good on your resume."

"Not much of an overachiever, sir."

He glanced up from the day planner he'd been flipping through, fixing her with a curious look. "You know, you're one of the only three students in the department who hasn't at least volunteered time to the paper staff. I took the liberty of pulling your transcript -,"

She cringed inwardly.

" – and it appears you withdrew failing from all of your classes last semester."

"Yes, sir."

"Your high school records were fabulous. Now, I'm not an advisor, and it's none of my business, but you might want to consider changing your major if you find this material challenging."

Her confidence plummeted. _Challenging. _And that was just the problem, wasn't it? No one with half a brain had trouble with Charming High School's curriculum, but here, untested and diving into the great big pool of real life education, she was _challenged. _How could she explain that last semester had been a unique circumstance? Was it? Or was she always going to battle her life and her scholastic goals? Or perhaps she wasn't the writer she'd hoped. After all, Happy and her mother complimenting her skills meant nothing in the professional field – neither of them was a writer.

She glanced down at the front of her returned essay and felt some relief to see a red "A" circled on the front page.

"You have a beautiful way with words," Cross went on, further settling her doubts. He folded his hands together and looked at her seriously. "I would have given you an"A+", but you didn't stay on topic."

The assignment had been a brief, 700 word reflective article; finding an application of feminism in a factual setting. Ava warped it to explain that despite the taboo associated with them, women who "belonged" to "certain outlaw organizations" actually held more power because of their designated place alongside their men. Fumbling for a way to write a topic that didn't interest her, she'd pulled something out of her old trusty blue notebook.

"I did stray a little," she admitted, ducking her head. "I guess I just viewed it as a prompt rather than a guideline."

He nodded. "Which is fine for creative writing, but journalism is more structured than that. When I said 'challenging'," he smiled ", I just meant that you're probably going to have a hard time catering to authority in a more structured, journalistic setting."

Ava grinned too. "It kinda runs in the family."

"Well, just think about what I said. It's not too late to focus solely on literature and writing. Leave the reporting to us boring folks."

**-O-**

"You comin' to bed?"

"MmmHmm," Ava mumbled around the pencil she held in her teeth. She pulled it out and circled a relevant phrase in her textbook. "Just a sec. I gotta finish this chapter."

Hap grumbled as he went back to the bedroom. "Why do I feel like I got homework too? Your school's ruinin' my sex life."

Ava silently agreed with him. It was affecting her sex life too, damnit, and she was none too happy about it. Deciding that the rest could wait until tomorrow, she reached forward to set her book on the coffee table. In the process, she knocked over the stack of bike magazines Hap was amassing and cursed when they all sailed across the room, glossy pages slipping and sliding over the carpet.

She was picking up a copy of _Street Smarts _– a publication Hap had said was friendlier towards the outlaw community – when she saw the half page ad done in red block letters. _Send us your articles! _It said; encouraging readers to contribute to the magazine in an effort to garner more "real life" support from riders and their families.

"I wonder…" she mused aloud, thinking about Professor Cross and his perception that she didn't take well to authority.

"Ava!"

"Coming!" She folded back the magazine to the appropriate page and left it on the table, determined to return to it.

**TBC**


	49. Chapter 49

**February 2014**

"Have you heard from Dad?" Ava asked before taking a sip of her Coke. Home for the weekend, she and Maggie were having lunch at a table outside the T-M office, enjoying the sunny and mild afternoon and thick-cut turkey sandwiches from Nikki's with fresh avocado slices. Through the open roll-top doors of the garage, they could see Hap and Juice working on Ava's truck.

"Five times already today," Maggie said. Her smile was weak, but at least it was there. Ava was surprised and proud that her dad was taking such care to keep Maggie informed and feeling loved. "If everything goes as planned, he'll be back Wednesday." He had gone to New York to meet Kerianne…and, unfortunately…Fiona. SAMCRO wit pro, and then he'd be back home in Charming where he belonged. With Maggie. Ava's father, only a phone call to Kerianne, and nothing to Fiona.

"That's good," Ava said, encouraging. "Really, Mom."

"Yep." She sighed and seemed to shake herself as she wadded up the foil wrapper of her sandwich. "Anyway, what's up with you guys? Things good?"

"Excellent," Ava smiled as she watched Happy walk beneath her truck on the lift, squinting at the undercarriage of the machine. "He's back doing runs with the guys, but when he's home, it's wonderful. You know…in a grumpy, manly, pain in the ass sort of wonderful way."

Maggie chuckled. "Bears in caves these boys."

Ava nodded and set her lunch down, already brushing the crumbs off her fingers as Juice headed her way again with yet another catalogue. Fixing up her truck had been Hap's idea. He'd told her that morning that they would be "making some adjustments" so anyone who'd ever seen it before wouldn't recognize it. He'd hinted at a paint job. But when she'd arrived at the garage and had seen the sketches, cut-outs, order forms and magazines spread out on a clubhouse table, she had realized that her ride was getting seriously pimped. And she was very, very excited.

"Yo," Juice was acting as Xzibit, fully in character. "You gotta pick your wheels," he said, sidling up beside her at the table and setting the catalogue before her. "I mean, rims," he corrected himself with a chuckle, tapping the glossy page filled edge-to-edge with shiny chrome.

"Wow," she leaned forward, scanning the options. "Ooh, some of these are expensive," she said with a frown. "Damn. I can't afford this."

"Hap said to pick whatever."

She gave him a sideways look. "What, is he rich all of a sudden?"

"You didn't know? He's like a prince or some shit. Got palaces. Gold toilets."

Ava rolled her eyes, knowing that unless his mother had left him some money, Hap couldn't afford rent, groceries, gas, _and _the thousands of dollars he intended to put into her truck.

"What's on that sandwich?" Juice asked.

"Here," she slid it towards him and tried to scout out the cheapest rims available. "What do you think, Mom?"

Maggie snorted. "I think your damn lunch is gone."

"What?" Ava glanced up and caught Juice cramming the last bite of her turkey on sourdough down his throat. "Juice! Ugh."

"You gave it to me," he protested as he swallowed. "You want it back? Here." He started to reach into his mouth with a finger like he intended to gag himself.

"No!" she and Maggie yelled in unison. "Here, God," Ava slapped at the wheels she wanted. "And please, keep the sandwich."

"This is why we don't eat with boys," Maggie waved him away.

Laughing, he picked up the catalogue again. "This is what you want? You sure?"

"Yep. They're pretty."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll see if I can't get some nice shoes to go with 'em."

"Pirellis?" Ava questioned hopefully.

Juice winked. "We'll see," and then headed back to the garage.

**-O-**

"You thinkin' Flows?" Juice asked as he returned, joining Hap in his examination of the exhaust system.

"Yeah. Still get a nice sound without drawing too much attention." He had debated Glasspacks versus Flowmasters, finally opting for the less obviously redneck of the two brands. Ava would love this shit when they were done. Black exterior with silver pinstriping, chrome details, tinted windows, blacked out rims. "You get the wheels?"

"Came in this morning," Juice said with a smile. He walked around behind a tool chest, out of sight of the lunching women, and beckoned him along. He had two cardboard shipping boxes stowed away, packaging peanuts spilled all over the garage floor. The twenty inch Jaagrutis they'd gotten at wholesale were very slick, shiny black and just as outlaw as the dark spokes of their bike wheels. "She picked out some cheap shit," he said, nodding like he was proud of his sneakiness. "She's gonna be stoked about these. And," he waved toward the tire rack ", brand new Pirellis, just like you wanted."

Happy had to hand it to the SAMCRO intelligence officer; he'd really come through on this whole truck deal. Originally, Hap had wanted to just repaint the Ford, hopefully disguise it from Irish eyes. But over the phone last week, Juice had started making hesitant suggestions that maybe they go further with it. Hap had warmed to that idea quickly. His little killer deserved a hell of a lot more than what he could give her, but she'd love this truck. This was his area. He could work on cars. He could more than give her this. Since, he and Juice had been back and forth on the phone, ordering things, collaborating. The little techno nerd was very big into the sleek, street look, and had made some smart choices with a lot of the redo.

It pained him, though, to see Juice with his girl. They would sit with their heads together, looking at the mock-ups on his laptop. She would laugh and smack his arm playfully. All friendly and shit. Hap had reminded himself again and again that Ava never gave him that blinding, pure look of adoration. That she didn't so much as even _look _at Juice with something like flirtation, much less suggest anything. He was terribly jealous when it came to her, but seeing the two dorks work together had solidified the choice he'd made a few weeks back.

Juice was not bloodthirsty, not ruthless, not as physically able to protect Ava as say, Tig. But he had no family. No other obligations save the club. Chibs loved him. And the most important thing of all, he cared about Ava. Not inappropriately – not yet – but there was something there, even if it was just a big brother vibe. And Ava liked him. Peas in a pod those two; music, TV, jokes, stupid dance moves…they had a lot in common. And because he was kinder, gentler, sweeter, less nasty, Juice would be the only one he'd trust not to hurt her. Tig, though his brother, was a sick fuck. Plus Ava hated him. No, it would be Juice. He'd do a good job.

It was like a knife in Hap's gut to dwell on the 'what ifs' of life, but having Ava made him do something he'd never done before; think ahead to the future. He had things now that he needed to set in order. Though healthy, healed, going strong, there were no guarantees in this life. And he didn't ever want things to be up in the air should something happen to him. Everything he had would be left to her in the event of his demise, and because there was something he couldn't leave behind – the warm, living, physical body she needed and craved – he'd line up a suitable replacement. His girl had him wrapped so tightly around her little finger that he was willing to secure anything for her future…even sex and companionship.

"Hey, Juice," Hap started. God, he hated this. The younger man's head snapped up from where he'd been admiring the boxed wheels. "There's somethin' I need to tell you. Ask you." There was all this pressure on his chest, like someone was sitting on him. "About Ava."

Juice was frowning, head cocked to the side in that way that made him look like a stray Labrador. "Okay…."

Hap folded his arms and braced his feet apart. He hadn't expected this to make him feel so unstable. "This thing," he cleared his throat, feeling like a pussy for stalling ", with the Irish. My leg and all."

Juice nodded, features hardening just a touch in remembrance. There was a dark side in there. Not a love for violence, but a hardness he could tap into if the need arose. It bolstered Hap's confidence in him.

"It got me thinkin' that we don't know when we'll bite it, but it could happen anytime. Bein' a Nomad's not light work. And it'll kill Ava if I kick off."

Another nod, this one a touch morose. Everyone knew what would happen to Ava, the hell into which she would plunge.

"If I go, I need you to promise me something…"

Juice's eyes became steadily wider as Happy explained his request, the younger man turning an unhealthy shade of gray that didn't seem possible. He started shaking his head. "No," he murmured as Hap pressed on. "No, no, no. No way, man." He put his ringed hands on top of his mohawk, staring at the Nomad like he wanted to be anywhere else. "I can't do that. You can't ask me that."

"Calm down," Happy put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a light shake. "A'ight? Take a deep breath."

He did, but the release was shaky, his lips trembling. His face screwed up. "How could you ask me that? Why would you put that on me?" His voice was strained.

"Bro, you know I don't like thinkin' about it either. Trust me." He sighed. Juice still looked stricken. "I don't want to be unprepared. If and when. And I don't plan on that happening for a long, long time if I can help it. But…I need to know she'll be taken care of."

"You know the club -,"

"Yeah, I know the club will look after her. But that's not what I'm talkin' about."

When he swallowed, Juice's adam's apple bobbed ferociously.

"She hates Tig. Bobby…nah. Not Tux. She likes you, man, and you like her."

"Hap, I swear, I never -,"

"I know. I ain't accusing you. And trust me, you so much as touch her, and you'll stop existing. But I…I just need to know. If I go too soon, she'll need someone. That girl can't be alone, I just won't let her be. C'mon, Juice." Happy was starting to feel like this wouldn't happen. He'd been working so hard, trying to do everything he could to take care of his girl, but this last resort wasn't going to pan out. He could just feel it, and the pressure on his chest increased. "Please, brother."

At that word – one he'd so rarely spoken in his life – Juice stilled, his face going slack. Slowly, he lowered his arms so that they hung limp at his sides. His mouth puckered up. Shook his head. "You love her that much, huh?" he asked softly. "That you'd set her up like that."

He nodded.

Juice sighed, shoulders sagging. "Okay. I don't like it, but okay." He almost smiled and fell short. "Not like it's gonna happen, right?"

It felt weird to be so, but Hap was relieved. The thought of another man's hands on her, of anyone besides him sweaty and naked between the sheets with her, made him nauseous and violent. But this was right. This is what you did when you loved your girl so much it made you crazy. Just like Gemma had been able to turn her weeping eyes towards Clay, Ava needed a next best thing too. And it could only be the mohawk sporting dork in front of him. Hell, she liked brown. She could get into it.

"Thank you," he said, serious. He clapped him on the arm. "Really, bro. Thank you."

Juice sighed again and seemed to shake himself back to some sort of better mood. "I'll at least take care of her," he consented.

Hap snorted. "You'll do more than that."

He lifted his brows in doubt.

"You can't say 'no' to that one. She gets in your blood."

**-O-**

"I'm still hungry," Ava admitted as she crumpled up her Frito's bag and stuffed it into the larger paper one they were using for trash.

Maggie _tsked _inside her cheek as she stood. "You can't offer him food," she scolded with a chuckle. "You know Mr. Myoplex is a bottomless damn pit."

"I know, I know." Her phone rang on the table, "The Good Life" blaring. "I'll catch up," she told her mom, frowning at the unknown number on the screen. "Hello?"

"Ms. Morales?" a man questioned on the other end.

Ava frowned. She hadn't been "Miss Morales" for very long, which meant this was likely some douche from the school calling to tell her that her parking pass was no longer valid or some stupid shit. "Yes it is," she kept her tone polite.

Tig was walking by and mimicked her. She flipped him the bird.

"Hi there, this is Rick Chase from _Street Smarts_ -,"

Oh, God, the magazine!

" – I wanted to talk to you about the article you submitted if that's alright."

She couldn't believe someone had actually called her – for the most part, acceptances and rejections were handled through email. That was how she'd submitted her article after all. "Of course!" she said. She was half smiling now, breath held.

"Well," Rick continued, still in that upbeat, professional tone. "I showed your submission to my editors and they were really excited about it. We have practically no female readership and have actually been looking for something that would draw women readers without sacrificing the current 'feel' of the magazine."

"Uh-huh."

"You mentioned you had other material in your submission. We're going to go ahead and publish 'Riding Bitch' in our March issue…but how'd you like to make that a more permanent arrangement?"

"You…I…_what_?" she finally choked out, not able to believe this was an actual conversation she was having.

"It would be on a trial basis at first," Rick said. "But if the reception is good, we're very interested in making you a contributor. 'Riding Bitch' would run as a monthly column."

"A…a…column?"

He chuckled. "I take it you weren't expecting this."

"No! I mean…well, I'd hoped. But wow! You liked it? You want to make it a column?"

"If you still have that other material…"

"Oh, yes," Ava's head finally started functioning again. "I've grown up in this life, I have so many ideas."

"Good. Glad to hear it."

She listened with rapt attention as he detailed the next few steps in the process. Rick would get her in contact with one of the editors and they would set up email communications. She would have deadlines. The magazine would reserve the right to pull her at any time, likewise able to edit the content of her posts. They would need a picture – it could even be a drawing – to represent herself and the column. They would set up payment.

When she snapped her cell shut, she just stared at it a moment. An actual bike magazine had called her. To compliment her work. To appreciate her female peek into the outlaw world – all of it covert and non-incriminating of course. She was going to be published. She – Ava Telford/Morales – was going to be published in a magazine. Was going to have her own _column_. This was all so overwhelming, it was all so big, it was –

She leapt up from the picnic table, shrieking with hysterical laughter. As soon as she extricated her legs from the bench, she was jumping and dancing around like some idiot who'd just won the lottery. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, _oh my God!_"

"What?" her yelling had pulled the guys out of the garage. Hap, Juice, and Tig were all staring at her, tools in hand and ready to bash the offending attacker over the head. "What the fuck?" Happy asked. "You a'ight?"

She squealed when she saw him, smiling so hard her face hurt. "Hap! Oh my God, you won't believe it!"

"What?" They all yelled at once, starting to look less on guard and more pissed.

Maggie called an inquiry from the office.

Ava took a deep breath and stopped dancing. She couldn't get rid of the smile though. "That was a guy from _Street Smarts_," she explained, voice bubbling with excitement. "They liked the article I submitted so much that they want me to a columnist."

She was met by three blank looks and one slow nod of understanding from Juice.

She sighed. "I have a job!" she said, flapping her arms. "They want to make my article a monthly bit in the magazine." Whatever the reactions from the others, she didn't see them, because she was watching her guy intently.

He lifted his brows. "Whoa." Then he grinned. "See, kid? I told you you were good."

Just that small amount of confidence and praise was doubled by the look in his eyes. Ava leaped across the space between them, flinging her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered fiercely in his ear.

He chuckled. "Take it you're kinda excited."

"You have no idea."

**TBC**


	50. Chapter 50

**AN: **This was supposed to be the second to last chapter, but not it's the third. Things have gotten too long, but I don't want to leave anything out. I'm hoping to have everything posted by Monday, the day before the season premiere. So, as things wind to a slow close, I want to say that I appreciate all the reviews and support beyond words, and ask that you please keep reviewing!

And no one worry too much about the ending…it should be 'happy'.

…

"You know I'll have to sign off on it all," Jax said, but was smiling.

Ava nodded.

"I can check it," Hap offered, much to her relief. "She knows better than to talk about club shit." His hand was at the small of her back, fingertips under the hem of her shirt, playing with the ink he'd put on her skin. Already soaring with the sudden news of her column – that was never going to get old – his nearness and support had her that much more ecstatic.

"I know she does," her cousin said with a wink. He leaned forward and gave her a peck on the cheek and a one-armed hug that didn't disrupt Happy's gentle foreplay with her back. "Congrats, cuz."

"Thank you." Ava knew she was gushing, that she was being far too perky and unlike her usually jaded self, but she couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

Beside Jax on a barstool, Opie nodded. "That's great news, Ava." Which was a ringing endorsement coming from him.

"Little Killer's gonna be a little celebrity," Bobby said with a chuckle. "Will you remember all us lowly folks when you're livin' it up in Hollywood?"

"No Hollywood," she said firmly, shaking her head. "I think Sacramento's too far half the time. And I'm _not _going to be a celebrity."

"C'mon," Maggie prodded. "You could have your own reality show."

"Mom," she rolled her eyes. She hated to be the center of attention like this, though it didn't dim her good mood. "How about we just see if they take my next article, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jax nodded and thankfully, the room started to return to its pervious state of quiet pool games and side conversations. "I do want to read it though," he added over his shoulder. "You know, my old man was a writer."

**-O-**

It was a low-key evening. Ava sat with her mother at a table, playing solitaire and catching up on all the little tidbits of school drama that Hap was too impatient to listen to. He was in front of the tube with Tig and Bobby, enjoying what she was sure was some much needed guy time. Later, she planned to channel her remaining giddiness into the kisses she wanted to trail across his body. But now, he looked content to hang with his brothers.

She couldn't stop thinking about him though. Which was bad because her mom was whooping her ass and had nearly all the suits up. When she was younger, before he'd finally succumbed to temptation, she had fantasized about Hap incessantly. Imagining what he would feel like, how heavy he'd be, how all those sleek muscles would look as he braced his gorgeous body up on his arms and fucked her senseless. That had been her every thought and curiosity since she was old enough to understand her body's cravings. No longer fantasy, the thoughts were no less intense inside her mind, maybe even more so. Now she felt the phantom touch of his skin, swore she heard his ragged breath in her ear. She could watch his fingers around the neck of his bottle and recall the way those same lean, dark digits felt inside her; stretching her, readying her for what she really wanted.

"Stop having imaginary sex and focus on the game," Maggie said, snapping her out of the delicious land of Happy inside her head.

"Sorry," she said with a sheepish laugh.

Maggie smirked. "If your dad still looked like that," she nodded back toward the sofa. "I'd be doing the same thing."

"Mom," she protested. "Don't hate on Dad."

"Says the girl who's spent her entire life hating on him."

"There's a difference. He'll always be my dad, even if I hate him sometimes. But you have to work on it. Besides…he didn't beat the shit out of your man."

Maggie gave her an odd look. "When did you get so smart?"

"Learned it from my Mama."

"Yeah, well, this whole you and Hap playing peacemaker thing, it's freaking me out. So cool it."

Ava frowned as she scrapped her hand and watched her mother start sorting the cards that had been put up. "What do you mean, me and Hap?"

"He didn't tell you?" Maggie kept her head down and glanced up through her lashes briefly. "When they were holed up that night, your boy was offering his relationship coaching expertise."

"Really?" Ava glanced over toward the couch again. Hap was laughing at something Bobby had said, one of those rare, genuine smiles marking the dimples he tried to hide. She felt her chest swell knowing that the same night she'd been trying to help her mother see the bigger picture, Hap had also been at work, helping Chibs with the same issue. Making an effort to patch her parents back together. If it were possible, she now wanted him even more.

Maggie smiled as she reshuffled the decks. "Go grab us some beers?"

She obliged, though preoccupied. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy moments like this with her mother – because she did – but she'd watched Hap work on her truck all day. Had been separated by open space and prying eyes. And now she knew that he may have been instrumental in her parents' latest reconciliation. She wanted him, just like the horny teenager she was.

Juice was at the bar in front of his laptop, being antisocial. "Hey, man," she greeted as she opened up the cooler and pulled out two Bud Lights.

"Hey," he returned, distracted, eyes never leaving the computer screen.

Ava edged closer, setting the beers down. He almost looked sad, like the night of the Tacoma explosion when Tig had stolen his date. She realized that in the midst of her column excitement, she hadn't had a chance to properly thank him yet. _Oh no_, surely his feelings weren't hurt about that. He was a sensitive soul all things considered, definitely landing on the lighter side of the MC spectrum.

"Juice, thank you so much for all your work on my truck," she leaned closer. Still, he didn't look at her. "It's going to look amazing when it's finished and I know a lot of that was you. I'm really excited about it." When he merely nodded, Ava laid a hand on his arm, right over the reaper tattooed into his skin.

He shied away from her touch, lunging sideways, nearly tipping his stool and snatching his arm away from her as if she'd burned him. Ava recoiled with a gasp. The eyes he turned to her were wide, the whites reflecting the blue of his laptop. His expression wavered between one of complete sadness, and then frustrated anger, his eyebrows flicking up and then down, head shaking. He looked like he'd had a whole bunch of speed or something.

"What the fuck's going on over there?" Tig demanded from the couch.

Ava glanced that direction and saw that Hap was on his feet, arms held up in exasperation. "Jesus Christ, can't you play it cool?"

Ava put a hand over her chest. _Me? _But Hap was glaring daggers at Juice who, when she looked again, was straightening his cut with nervous tugs and staring down at his computer.

"What…what's the matter?" Ava asked, stepping back when he seemed to become more agitated instead of less.

Juice folded in on himself, shoulders bunching. Hap was coming towards the bar now, his boots loud, the rhythm of his steps just a tad off beat. That left one would forever be slow now.

"Juice?" Ava reached for him again and he halted her with a hand.

"Just…don't," he said.

Hap reached the bar and closed the laptop. _Click. _"You need to chill the fuck out," his threat was quiet.

"I'm sorry, Hap," Juice was miserable now, face twisted like he physically hurt. And then his eyes cut over toward Ava, so, so sad. He shook his head. "I don't handle guilt well," he admitted quietly. "I just…"

Ava looked at Hap and he frowned back at her. And then back to Juice who was _guilty _about something. He –

"Oh no," she groaned, catching on. "Happy, please, let me explain."

**-O-**

"It was before you and I…" _fucked in secret _"…were together. I swear," Ava said. She clasped her hands together, not even aware that her stance was one of prayer, her knees quivering as if she tended to kneel before him any moment.

They were in the relative privacy of his dorm, Hap leaned back against his dresser, arms folded. He looked tall like that. Dark. Sinister. He said nothing.

Panic welled up in her throat, making her want to gag. She could feel her blood racing beneath her skin, anxiety winding tighter and tighter in her chest like a spring. He hadn't scolded yet, hadn't said anything, but she was suddenly desperate. "It never meant anything. I always wanted you. Always. Since I was…forever. I've always wanted you. I haven't ever wanted Juice like that."

"Ava -,"

"But I lied to you," she blurted. "That day at the house, when you asked what I was doing with him…I had been….been…" she pulled in a rattling breath ", we made out. Juice and I. And I let him get to second base once. But that was it. I swear, Hap. Please, please don't be angry about this! I just got so tired of waiting and I didn't think you'd ever want me -,"

"Ava," he said firmly, finally silencing her ramble. He rubbed a hand across his jaw and sighed. "It's okay. I already knew about all that."

Her pulse skipped. "You did?"

He nodded.

"Oh…" she thought they'd been so sneaky. Behind the garage out by the dumpster. Up in Jax's old apartment. She and Juice had been so careful. Now she was embarrassed; ashamed that she'd lied to him and he'd known all along. "How?"

Hap snorted and half-smiled, a move that loosened some of the tension in her clenched muscles. "Idiot always had that stupid look on his face. Like a damn high school kid who got lucky at the prom."

"Shit," she groaned. "I never meant for you to find out."

He shifted his weight against the edge of the dresser. "Why not?"

"Why not?" she repeated, incredulous. After all this time, how could he not find that answer himself. "Because I didn't want you to ever think that I wanted anyone but you," she said. "Because I don't."

He nodded before the words were fully out of her mouth. "I know, baby. I know. I don't ever worry about you. Guys, sure, but not you."

Ava felt the quick burn of tears and blinked. "I would never." She shook her head. "And I couldn't stand for you to think that."

"I know," he said again, gentler. He put his hands on her shoulders and Ava closed her eyes gratefully when he pulled her in close and rested his forehead against hers. His skin was warm. His breath smelled like cigarettes and beer. It was all that she knew and wanted. Why had this come out? Why had Juice brought this up? Was this some test; a trial to somehow push them closer while at the same time sending her emotions through the wringer?

"Juice is just freakin' out about something," Hap said. His voice was so low and rough, so close, the words brushing over her face, that it took her a moment to realize what he said. "I wasn't gonna tell you, but I've made a deal with him; that he'll look out for you if anything happens to me."

Ava felt her hands curl around the worn leather halves of his cut. "What?" her eyes popped open, his face so close it was all a blurred shadow blotting out her field of vision. "What did you just say?"

"If something happens – and I'm gone – Juice knows he has to look after you."

The tremors started as faint ripples, the sense of an overactive pulse. But quickly they consumed her until her arms shook uncontrollably. "Don't even talk like that!" she choked out. Though angry, she pulled him closer rather than push him away. "Happy…God, how could you…why…don't say shit like that to me!"

He sighed, chest pushing back against hers. "Don't take it that way. It's just in case of a 'what if'."

Ava felt like she was choking; a sob caught in her throat out of nowhere. Just hearing him even suggest that he could die and leave her alone – to another man – was like a straight shot of adrenaline to the heart; all of her emotions twisting together and surging out of her at once. Flooding her. _No! _her mind screamed. She buried her face in his throat, the soft, supple leather collar of his cut gentle against her cheek. "I don't want to talk about 'what ifs'." Her voice cracked. "Don't you dare fucking die! And don't you dare fucking talk about it!"

"Ava, stop. Okay? I'm fine. It doesn't mean anything. But I had to do this for you."

"_For _me?" She pushed back, now fighting his hold. "How does planning your death help me?"

He let her go, sighing and rubbing at his scalp as she paced away with her arms folded. "Don't get like this."

"Like what? Terrified?"

"Like your mom."

She gasped. "I am not -,"

"Shut up and listen to me a sec."

She closed her mouth mid sentence and faced him, but still trembled. It was too soon since the accident…hell, maybe it always would be. And they finally had some semblance of peace, a little slice of almost apple pie life, and he wanted to talk about goddamn 'what ifs'. She nodded though, because refusing him had never been an option.

"You think I wanna think about this?" his voice had that low, dangerous edge to it. "Huh? That I'm ready for that?"

She dabbed at her eyes and waited, wondering how long she could hold his stare.

"You belong to me."

More tears escaped her eyes.

"And I ain't ever had that kinda responsibility. I mean, I had Mom…but this…" he shook his head ", this is…more." Again, his hand passed across his head and down his face, like he didn't want her to see him when he said this. "When I say that I'm gonna take care of you, I mean that in every way. Even if, and that's a big if, something happens. I don't wanna scare you, but you know shit happens in this life."

Crying freely now, still pained, but touched too, Ava nodded. "I know."

"We won't ever talk about this again 'cause it makes me fuckin' sick to think it, but _if_…then he knows what to do. And you'll be okay."

"Jesus," she shook her head. "Why can't this ever be easy?" Her throat constricted and her tears were getting sloppier, she was starting to make whiny, whimpering sounds. "It's bad enough other people try to tear us up. Why do you have to go and talk about this?"

Happy sighed. "Shit…I forget how old you are."

She was already too fucked up to be offended. She closed her eyes and wiped at her face, makeup coming off on her sleeve. Goddamn, what a slob. What a stupid, simpering little girl with no backbone.

She went willingly when he towed her over to the bed and sat down with her, holding her sideways against his chest. "Just let it go. We won't ever talk about it again."

**-O-**

Hap didn't know how this had gotten so out of control. He wanted to blame someone; Juice, Ava even, himself. Mostly himself. But it wasn't anybody's fault; just a shit-hard life and the product of his newfound anxiety.

He waited until she was no longer sobbing, but sniffling, her hands tangled up in the front of his t-shirt. Then he stretched out on the bed, pulling her with him to her usual favorite position tucked against his side. He could feel the tremors coursing through her body, swore he heard her teeth chattering.

"You gonna calm down?" She sniffed and mumbled something against his ribs. "You know, I worked too damn hard to get here now – with you – I ain't checkin' out anytime soon." He stroked the back of her head. He loved her hair, how pure and silky it felt. She used some sort of sweet, citrus smelling product in it. "I didn't wait eighteen years just so I could get my ass killed."

Ava was still a moment, as if she was holding her breath, and then she shifted so she could look up at him, her folded arms over his belly. Damn, even when she was a sloppy, crying mess, she was still cute as hell. She wiped at her cheeks again, her mascara very Alice Cooper.

"I love you so much," she explained without necessity – he already knew that. "Too much I think. It's not healthy." He nodded. "I don't wanna talk about all the shit that could go wrong. I just want to be with you right now and enjoy it while we can."

His hand wanted to touch her face, so he let it, fingers in her hair, thumb over the nightmare, rockstar eye makeup dribbling down her cheek.

"I love Juice," she went on. "Not _love _love, but friend love. Family love." She pulled in a shaky breath like she had in Sacramento, when she'd 'channeled Gemma'. Again, she seemed to draw strength from some outside place – where, he wasn't sure. "But don't get ahead of yourself. Don't pull someone in between us, because I won't let it happen. I'm _your _Old Lady, no one else's. Don't go arranging marriages."

He almost grinned. There she was; the club girl. When her emotions finally settled, she always understood. It just took her a second to get there. "Exactly." He smeared her mascara even further with his thumb. "Think of it as your sidearm in a fire fight; it's there if you ever have to pull it, but only if your long gun malfunctions."

She blinked, and then her cheek pushed back against his hand when she smiled with a little groan. "Oh, Lord." She muttered, laying her head down over his chest. Her body shook again, this time with sad laughter.

"What?"

"Only you could make some kind of logical gun analogy sound so dirty."

He ran the line back through his head. Oops. He hadn't intended for it to come out so literal. Whatever though; she was laughing again.

"Poor Juice," Ava said, sounding more like herself. "You scared the shit out of him."

**-O-**

The guys had returned to their TV show, but across the clubhouse, laying out her hand of solitaire without looking at the cards, Maggie stared at him. Juice wished the old wooden floor would open up and swallow him. He'd almost retreated to his dorm, but Hap had taken Ava back there and…yeah…he didn't really want any part of their deal at the moment. The front door was looking better by the second, but running out would make him look like a spineless pussy. And he didn't want that. Almost as badly as he didn't want that goddamn envelope with Ava's name scrawled across the front in the bottom of his sock drawer. It wasn't bad enough that Hap had asked this of him, but then he'd gone and penned his girl a note, a way to talk to her from the grave, and had left it in his care. To ", give it to her," should anything happen.

He shouldn't have freaked out before. All she'd done was touch him, and she'd done that before, with less innocence than that for sure. He didn't want her. There had been a time, before Happy had finally come to his senses and laid claim to her, when teaching her how to kiss had been the hottest shit he could imagine. He'd let his mind wander then, wondering if she'd let him, or if he dared. The fantasy was nice. She had still been in the late-blooming process of development, but now, after another year, she was more grown up. Not just cute, but beautiful, and he'd reasoned that it was okay to find her attractive because she was with Hap and there were no lingering feelings. Nothing would ever happen.

But Hap had opened the door to the land of 'what if'. It was confusing and dark there, that land of 'what if'; full of cobwebs and slithering things It was where loopholes, botched plans, and staggering grief lived. No one was happy in the land of 'what if'. He certainly wasn't.

He glanced up from his laptop again and there was Maggie, staring at him. She was, like Gemma, everybody's mama half the time, but one intimidating bitch the other half. Juice looked away, back to the CaraCara website redo he had no hopes of working on any longer. Why couldn't he have just been cool about the whole thing? Why did Hap have to bring this to him in the first place? Shit, this was why he needed an Old Lady; to prevent shit like this from happening. But how did you guard yourself against a surprise request to take ownership of someone's girl when he died? Shit…this was all wrong.

Footsteps coming down the hall roused him from his position with his head in his hands. _Oh, fuck me. _There was Hap, looking all stern, and Ava wiping at what had once been her neatly applied eye liner and mascara. _School's out for summer…_he couldn't help but sing inside his head.

She waited until Hap nudged her forward, gave her permission, but Ava came to him and put her arms around his neck. Juice stiffened, hands held out, unsure of what to do. She really didn't need to be hugging him.

But Ava held fast, squeezing him. "Nothing's changed," she said so softly that only he could hear it. "Stop freaking out." She kissed his cheek, her lips just a soft, ghostly brush, and then pulled away, smiling crookedly. "We okay?"

Ava had that pale, shaky look of someone who'd come back from the edge of panic. She had obviously cried. Hap had told her and it had been devastating to hear. Suddenly, Juice felt like an ass for getting all bent out of shape about it. Whatever the burden to him, Ava was too emotionally bound to Happy to comprehend the kindness of his gesture. And if he'd kept his mouth shut, not leaped away from her like a fucking sorority girl in a haunted house, she would never have known. Man, what a douche he was.

"Yeah," he said, feeling the anxious tension drain out of his face. He offered her a smile that he knew fell short. "Of course."

She hugged him again, her slim body trembling, and headed back to the table with her mother. Maggie pulled her down into a sideways hug, rubbed her arm. She was a good mom.

"Hey," Hap's voice was almost a growl. "You calm the fuck down, a'ight? You make her flip out like that again and I'll put your head through that goddamn computer."

Juice sighed. "Yeah."

**-O-**

"I'm not wearing any makeup," Ava reminded, not feeling pretty enough for what he wanted. She had scrubbed her cheeks and eyes clean in the shower with a bar of his caustic Dial soap, removing the remnants of her outburst.

The argument…or whatever it had been…the heart wrenching revelation he'd laid at her feet, felt far off, even though she was still fatigued because of it. It was late, the soft glow of the bedside lamp the only light as Ava perched on the very edge of the bed and turned towards the chair in which he sat, feet together, knees bent to show the length of her legs, hands braced back on the bed so that her spine curved the way she'd seen in every provocative photo.

"Nah, it's fine," Hap flipped to a new sheet in his sketch book. He was relaxed now, face pleasant to the point of almost smiling, settled in his recliner with a pencil in hand and another behind his ear. "I'll do some shading, make it look like you're dolled up."

He had offered, to her surprise, to draw her as a retro, sexy-chic pinup girl for her magazine article profile. The thought of sitting under his scrutiny, letting his mind and hands put her shape onto the paper was much like the tattoo had been; a tad too personal, but intimate on a whole new level that had nothing to do with sex.

"Look at me, kiddo," he instructed, settling back into the chair.

Ava turned so she looked over her shoulder, hair loose down her back. She was sleepy, the room warm and softly lit, and she couldn't help but smile as she watched him lick the end of the pencil and poise it above the paper. When his eyes lifted and swept over her, though, he frowned.

"What's the matter?" she asked as he set his pad aside and stood, coming to the bed.

"Nothin'." He put a hand on her shoulder, keeping her down when she tried to stand. "You just ain't lookin' much like a pinup."

"Well," Ava started to protest, kicking herself for not reapplying her makeup, but fell silent when he leaned down and put his hands on her belt. His movements were slow and deliberate as he worked the buckle loose. And then the button on her cut offs. Her zipper. When he touched her skin, she'd already had time to become electrified at the possibility. She leaned back on her hands, letting him have all the access he wanted as his palm settled over the flat of her lower belly, fingers delving beneath the silken ribbon that was the waistband of her panties. "Hap…"

But he just teased her, flirted above the place that craved him, pushing into her stomach with the heel of his hand. He leaned forward, but didn't kiss her, lips at her temple when he spoke. "Relax, baby."

Like she was supposed to relax when she was quivering with the need for his hand to go just a little lower. She let her hands slip back over the sheets, pushing her hips toward him. "First let's just…" but he was already pulling away, going back to the recliner and chuckling to himself.

"Now, just look at me like that," he said, sitting again and taking up his sketch pad.

"Like what?"

"Like you wanna fuck me."

He worked quickly, pencil flying in fast sweeps and then quick dashes over the paper. Every time he glanced up at her, he had a smirk on his face, making her hungrier, making the pose he wanted that much easier to hold. She had always thought it would be a little funny to have her picture taken – the compromising kind – but somehow this left her feeling even more bare than any photo could. It wasn't the camera, but his eyes and his hand that captured her image. She knew from her own artistic endeavors that you had to gauge the angle of every line, the swell of each curve, knew that he scrutinized her body as if he were buying livestock at auction.

"A'ight," he said sooner than she'd expected. He erased something and then brushed the rubber bits away. "I've got to work on the shaded areas, but you're done."

She held pose a moment longer, her hair cascading over one shoulder, head tipped back so the curve of her throat was exposed. "Can I see it?"

He waved her over and she leapt up, doing up her cut offs again as she went to the chair. Hap tilted the pad so that when she leaned an elbow onto his shoulder, she had a perfect view of the sketch. She was floored, not by his skill because she already knew what an artist he was, but by the trim, feminine, sexy woman that stared up at her off the page. The long, lean legs and the S-curve of her torso as she twisted toward the point of focus. She was looking at a pinup, not at herself.

"Is that…me?" she finally stammered.

"Yeah." He turned so he could see her stunned face.

"Wow."

"I know," he said. "Lucky me, huh?"

Ava slipped her arms around his neck and dropped a kiss on the top of his shaved head. "You know," she murmured ", I used to worry, when I was younger and I saw you with those…whores…that I wouldn't ever be enough for you."

She felt his hand on her arm. "You ain't a little kid anymore." His touch trailed up past her elbow, fingers stroking over her bicep. "You've always looked like a goddamn model and you know it." She blushed. "Tits are bigger too."

"They're growing," she admitted. "I need to go shopping; the C's just too tight now."

He chuckled. "Sweet."

Ava shifted so she had a better view of his drawing, watching with her cheek pressed alongside his as he picked up the pencil again and began putting bold, black streaks through her hair that she knew he would smooth with lighter, wispier strands. Already tired, she now had his skin against hers, his pulse beneath her hands, and she thought she might drift off leaning against him like this, even if she was somehow determined to finish what she'd wanted much earlier when she'd watched him across the room.

"We're fine," he broke the comfortable silence. She knew he wasn't just talking about their relative peace now, but was hinting at the Juice issue he'd promised not to bring up again. "You know how the club works; now you just have to accept it."

"I know." She rubbed at his chest through his t-shirt. "I know."

"You're stuck with me, kid. Even when I'm an old, miserable bastard. So quit frettin'. And," there was a smile to his rough voice. "Take your clothes off. I've been horny all goddamn day."

**TBC**


	51. Chapter 51

"Those aren't the wheels I picked out," were the only words Ava could form. It sounded stupid and not at all appreciative the moment it left her lips, but she was in a slight state of shock. Her truck, the stock and standard blue quad-cab Ford her mother had passed down was gone, in its place, more than she could have ever imagined.

The paint was high-gloss black, intricate, script-like pinstriping shooting down the sides of the truck and ending with flourish on the rear fenders that gave the airbrush work away as Happy's. Deep, dark tinted windows. Black rims with shined, low profile tires. Chrome door handles, chrome, billeted grille…it looked hot off the pages of a custom car mag; so black, so shiny, so race-inspired she felt her pulse kicking in her ears.

"Halogen headlamps," Juice said. He had apparently recovered from the previous night's debacle and stood facing the small audience that had gathered in the T-M parking lot, arms folded and shades on like he was just too cool for all this and loving every second of it. "Pirellis. Harley-Davidson seat covers, you already knew about the speakers, and…" he grinned slightly and held up the keyless entry remote. His thumb pressed a button that belonged to a new series; this wasn't her old Ford remote. At his touch, the unmanned truck fired to life, the new tailpipes growling as the engine turned over of its own accord. "Remote starter," he said with a smug smile.

"You can run the AC before you get in," Hap said. "You know, so your makeup don't melt and shit."

Ava smiled. She knew that the remote starter had nothing to do with her and everything to do with a couple of gearheads deciding _ooooh! What if it started without being in it? Sweet, dude! _But the fact that Hap had tried to tie it back into her own girly needs somehow helped her find her voice again. "Oh, you really shouldn't have," she turned rapidly glazing eyes towards Happy. She tried to tell herself that she wasn't going to cry, but it wasn't working too well as he grinned back at her.

"You know," he shrugged. "It's all just for safety's sake. Keep the Irish off your tail."

"Yeah, just safety. Right." She hugged him hard, not caring that his brothers were watching and now chuckling. She gave him a quick kiss. "Thank you."

Her arms still around his neck, he nodded reluctantly toward where Juice stood. "Go thank your nerd."

She pulled away from Hap reluctantly, a hand braced against his hard abdominals as she looked over her shoulder at Juice. She sighed. This was now a weird situation when it had no reason to be. Somehow, though he stood as always with his hands on the front of his cut, feet braced apart, still the same cute, dorky beefcake he'd always been, knowing that she would pass to him in the event of…she wouldn't let herself even think those words…required her to look at him in a different light. It now felt important to establish boundaries, but at the same time, she didn't want to lose what they'd had.

"Go on," Hap nudged her. Now, Bobby, Tux and Tig were looking at her oddly. Hell, they probably knew. They had to – there needed to be a club-wide enforcement of Hap's decision in case…that thing she didn't want to think about ever happened. A quick glance revealed that Juice was no longer smiling either, just as awkward as she was.

She hesitated a moment, fingertips still clinging to the front of Hap's shirt. This felt symbolic, which was stupid, and she didn't want to let go of her man. Juice glanced down at the pavement, shaking his head, and as she watched his boots shift, something stirred in her memory. A sunny mid-morning when she was fifteen, a club run and an empty parking lot, that old Usher song. _"You make me wanna leave the one I'm with, start a new relationship…" _And though the lyrics expressed the most absolutely inappropriate sentiment at this moment, it wasn't the song, but the vivid mental picture that came with it that made her smile.

Bored, eating a late breakfast at T-M, she'd been delighted and crippled with a fit of the giggles as Juice had demonstrated his moonwalk skills and done the robot with a wrench in his hand, only to then threaten her with those huge, worried eyes that she not tell a soul that he had "Usher's moves" for fear one of his brothers would find out.

Juice had never been like Happy. Never would be. And Ava had enjoyed his company far too long to be all awkward and weird over some distant possibility. She smiled at him as she let go of Hap and crossed the space between the Nomad and the SAMCRO hacker. "Thanks, Juice," she said brightly, holding her arms out, half curious whether he'd refuse the offered hug.

"Oh," his head snapped back up. His brows twitched over the rims of his shades. "Um…yeah."

Ava made a childish face. "Don't be a dork. Hug me." He started to move, but was a little hesitant. "Or I'll tell them you can…" she lowered her voice to a whisper ", moonwalk!"

Juice looked shocked for a moment, and then he obviously dredged up that same memory that had cleared things up in her head. She could tell he tried not to, but he finally grinned and then pulled her into a hug. Not grabby, not anything funny, just a hug like all the times before Hap had dared to mention that horrible thing that had gotten them all spun out of shape.

"You're welcome, babe." And because he'd always called her that, it made it that much more normal.

Chaste kisses on the cheek, a slug to her arm, and they were okay. "Here," he dangled the keys to the still-running truck. "Test drive?"

**Wednesday Night**

There was a reason Chibs wasn't one of the SOA "killas"; he made too much damn noise.

Maggie had intended to wait up for him, really she had, but when Jax had called and said the plane was delayed, that he wouldn't be picking him up until midnight, she'd gone to bed. Now though, the rattle of the back door latch, the clomp of his boots…she came pawing awake through the cloudy, dark layer of worry that had chased her into her dreams. She'd lain a long time in their bed, staring at the dark ceiling and wondering if Chibs would come home and act as if nothing had happened, or if seeing his Irish family again would have changed him. She had tossed fitfully, and now, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her hair damp at the base of her neck, butterflies surged in her stomach.

She found him in the kitchen and blinked against the harsh assault of the overhead dome light. Chibs was out of his cut, extricating an arm from the sleeve of the leather jacket he'd been wearing beneath it. His hair was a little greasy from travelling, his clothes rumpled. He looked tired. As Maggie braced a shoulder against the door jamb and rubbed the chill from her bare arms, she realized she'd missed him terribly. Such was the way of their relationship; bitterness, anger, frustration, jealousy…but an insatiable addiction for one another. Perhaps, in the world in which they lived, that was the closest to true love there ever really was. Addiction. A craving that never dulled, no matter the cost. That push that kept you coming back time and time again, even when it hurt, even when you stood a chance of losing everything.

"Hi, baby," she said quietly, halting his movements as he draped his jacket over the back of a chair. "You have a nice flight?"

She didn't get an answer. Chibs came around the table, right up to where she stood and didn't give her a chance to react as he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Maggie welcomed the contact, some of her worry leaving as she placed her hands on his chest and leaned up into the gentle stroke of his lips against hers. Willingly opened her mouth at the slightest question and enjoyed, for a long, lingering moment, reacquainting herself with his taste.

He cupped her chin in his hand when he pulled back, fingertips caressing her jaw. Maggie smiled. _This_ was what made all the bad shit worth it. "Missed you, darlin'."

"Mmm. Me too."

He held her gaze a moment, his touch gentle on her face. She had noted that as the years progressed, there were more moments like this. Quiet. Touching and snuggling even if fucking wasn't involved. There was still fucking – oh was there still fucking – but the quiet moments were nice too. It made her feel like she was his wife, and not just a hot bitch he'd picked up at the clubhouse.

She didn't mind, however, when one of his arms stole around her waist and pulled her in flush against him. She grinned. "Ooh, did you _really _miss me?"

"Aye." Chibs dipped down to kiss her throat, grazing her skin with his teeth.

"C'mon," she urged. "Let's go to bed."

His sighed, breath ruffling her hair. "No." Her body screamed a protest when he disengaged. "Gotta show you somethin' first."

Maggie sighed and once again braced herself in the doorway. "Unless this 'something' involves you dropping your pants, it can probably wait until morning."

"Nope, can't wait," he said, going back to the chair and reaching inside his cut. Maggie's sudden little hope for a present was quickly extinguished when he pulled out a neat, folded packet of papers. "Here," he presented them to her across the table. "Come read 'em in the light."

She complied with a curious frown, stepping up to the table and taking the offered papers. They crackled as she spread them, revealing row after row of cramped, tiny black print. A lot of long words she had trouble deciphering without reading glasses. She squinted, holding the sheet close to her face, and then the phrase "irreconcilable differences" caught her gaze and she gasped. "Is -,"

"Look at the bottom, luv."

She did. There, printed and then hastily scribbled in cursive, were two names. Filip Telford. And Fiona Larkin Telford.

Maggie's genetically flawed heart started knocking against her ribs. "Are these…?"

"Aye. They are."

After all this time, all the strife and fights and tears…divorce papers. He and that Irish bitch were divorced.

"It ain't final yet," Chibs said. "But it's official. Fi and Kerianne are all set up in Ithaca, no one will ever find 'em, and I needed to do this."

Maggie blinked hard against the threat of tears, glancing up at Chibs' hopeful, almost worried face across the table. "I can't believe you did this."

He half-smiled. "High time I was married to the right one, yeah?"

She had long ago given up on this particular fantasy. It would never happen. They had agreed that it wasn't necessary. What was a license when you loved one another?

But now, staring at him, she knew how much bullshit that had all been. She'd wanted this all along. "Chibs…if you're just fucking around with me…"

"It's the real deal," he laughed a little. "I swear."

A sound like wind rattled around her, rushed past her ears, and it took Maggie a moment to realize that it was her own breathing. That the dull pounding in her ears was her pulse. She glanced down at the divorce papers again, the words blurring as her eyes filled with tears.

"Don't cry, sweetheart." Chibs' boots were heavy on the linoleum as he moved around the table again.

"I'm not sad!" she protested. "I'm not," she glanced up at him, papers now shaking in her hands. "It's just…" there were tears tracking down her cheeks and he smudged them away with a calloused thumb. "I'd given up, ya know?"

"Aye. I know."

Maggie had planned, over the past four days, to inquire about Fiona when he came home. Subtle, biting little questions over morning coffee. She hadn't been that way when she was young. But as she had aged, as her priorities shifted toward her daughter, it had been impossible not to hold Chibs' to a higher standard, to call his love into question when it started to feel necessary.

But this…these two signatures at the bottom of a piece of paper…

It said everything.

She dropped them and they landed on the table with a flourish as she launched herself at her Scotsman. "I love you," she gasped against the tightness of his embrace. "Oh, God, I love you so much."

**-O-**

"_All I want is a little of the good life…"_

Hap groaned as he rolled toward the sound of the ringing cell. Not only did he hate all that new age _alternative _shit the kids listened to, but he seriously didn't want to be awakened by it at four in the morning. The room was black and across the dimensionless expanse of dark in front of him, the screen of Ava's phone glowed blue over on top of the dresser.

He flopped back down onto the pillow. "Ava." He reached over and traced a hand down the naked, sleeping girl's hip.

She stirred with a quiet little moan, sheets rustling.

_Damn _he thought. _Ready to go again. _"Phone."

"Wha…?" She pushed up on her arms; he could feel the mattress pull beneath his elbow.

Ugh. Talking was so unnecessary. "Phone's ringin'," he repeated.

She exhaled loudly and he could imagine the way she wiped her hands down her narrow little face, trying to smooth the sleep away. There was another flap of the sheets and the faintest brush of carpet against her bare feet as she retrieved her now-silent phone.

Hap rolled over onto his stomach, arms sliding beneath the cool underside of the pillow. That was his favorite position, but Ava tended to leave him entangled most nights. He closed his eyes, but wasn't able to get back to sleep as he listened to her redial the missed caller.

"Mom?

Hey.

Is something wrong?

You sound like you've been crying."

Hap's ears perked at that. _Oh shit. _Was there something going down in Charming?

"_Really_?" Her voice got that excited edge to it. No, no crisis. Just goddamn girl talk at four in the morning.

"Oh, Mom. That's fantastic! No, really! Oh, I'm so glad."

After a few more "uh-huh"s and an "I love you", he heard the phone snap shut and then the girl was climbing back into bed, her skin meeting his as she moved close and found his cheek for a kiss in the absolute dark.

"What was that about?"

He could swear he saw her smile, if nothing else, he could hear it. "Dad got home from New York. He and Fiona are divorcing."

"Really?" Happy was shocked. Chibs had been married to that bitch since well before coming stateside. If Maggie and Ava had not yet proved enough incentive, he wasn't convinced it would ever happen. "Damn."

"I know," Ava sighed contentedly. "I'm so happy for Mom. She deserves this."

"They gonna get hitched?"

"She didn't say so, but I'm thinking yes." He felt the smooth skin of her cheek on his arm. "Thank you," she said quietly.

He frowned though she couldn't see it. "For what?"

She chuckled lightly. "I hear you give pretty good advice." Maggie, the gossip, must have passed along what had transpired in the Charming PD holding cell that night. Ava's laughter died, her voice became dreamy. "It's amazing, you know? How we've all come out on the other side of…whatever this has all been."

Hap snorted. "There is no 'other side', sweetheart. It's all just the life."

"Well," she sounded even closer now, her breath against his ear. His mind drifted toward the way she must look, naked and on her back beside him. "I guess that makes it even more amazing." One of her long, thin fingers traced at the stubble along his jaw. She didn't even have to see him to know exactly where every part of his body was. Just like he knew the look she was giving him now; the blind faith and adoration. "I love you."

He smiled against her touch. "Me too."

**TBC**

**AN: Big finale next time!**


	52. Chapter 52

**AN: **So here we are at the end. Maggie and Ava have come a long way, baby, and I'm just so glad that some of you have toughed out the ride with them. I am so astounded by the reaction to this story, though I must give the biggest thanks to my thick-and-thin reviewers who've been here the whole time. You guys know who you are. I'd love to know what everyone thinks, now as it comes to a close. With over a thousand hits per updated chapter, I know there are lots of you out there reading! Would love some feedback!

This is the end of "Fearless", but not my last story. I have a few ideas. Just going to take a small breather. Plus…reviews here will help spur me to write faster! You will all see Maggie and Ava again in some capacity.

Thank you, everyone, so much! Hope you enjoy.

…

**April 2014**

"You're up early," Clay commented as he shuffled into the dining room.

Gemma favored him a fast glance and then returned to her reading, reaching for her coffee mug. "We got two charters comin' in from a charity run tonight _and _it's a work day. Maggie's gonna need me at T-M this afternoon."

"I knew that." He scowled as he sank into his usual place at the head of the table. A steaming mug and the paper awaited him, already laid out by his wife.

"I know you did, darling." She sounded distracted – because she was – but wanted to finish the article.

"What're you reading?"

She grinned. "First run of 'Riding Bitch' by A.R. Morales."

"Huh." His tone lightened with interest. "Ava's column?"

"Yep."

"She spillin' club secrets all over a magazine?"

Gemma folded back the page and passed him the copy of _Street Smarts. _"See for yourself."

He slipped on his reading glasses – also already on the table – and scanned the article. "'Riding Bitch. The Real Women of Real Clubs'," he read aloud with a snort. "You girls don't ever mince words, huh?"

She grinned over the rim of her mug. "Never."

**-O-**

Maggie checked the time on her cell again and groaned. When she'd decided to pop into the market on her way to the office, she hadn't counted on thirty other people having the same idea. She was picking up the steaks for that night, planning on sticking them in the clubhouse fridge to thaw until they were ready for the grill. By now, though, there were probably a half dozen impatient customers waiting at T-M. Whoever was manning the register was painfully slow, each customer taking a good ten to fifteen minutes to pay and then move the fuck on.

When she was second in line, Maggie hefted her shopping basket up and rested it along the edge of the counter. One thing that had always bugged her about Charming was the lack of convenient technology. No conveyor belt. No automatic doors.

As she waited, she took random note of the kid ringing up the purchases…and then did a double take. She hadn't seen him in a year or so, not since Ava had graduated and stopped tutoring him, but it was definitely Carter Michaels, Charming High football stud, in the green market smock, fumbling with the old lady's wad of coupons. Maggie frowned. According to Ava, Carter had received a full athletic scholarship to the University of Colorado. Here he was though, bagging groceries back home.

When the old biddy with the coupons finally shuffled along, Maggie swung her basket up to the scale and smiled at the blond pretty boy. "Hey, Carter! How's it been?"

His head snapped to attention, a pack of steaks held suspended above the laser scanner. "Um…" she could practically see the gears in his head whirring, trying to put a name to her face. _Goddamn white Juice _she thought to herself with a smile. He gasped a little, snapping his fingers when he figured it out. "Oh…hey! Ava's mom, right?"

"Maggie," she supplied with a nod.

"Right, right. Yeah. Um, it's been good."

"You sure about that?" she asked, glancing up at him from under raised brows as she fished her wallet out of her purse. He shrugged. Maggie sighed. "You work the groceries, I'll talk."

"Oh." His face turned pink when he realized that he was still just standing there.

"Thought you had a football scholarship," Maggie said as she started filling out her check. "Which begs the question, why are you here stocking shelves when you ought to be doing off-season training right now?"

He twitched an unhappy frown. "I tore my rotator cuff. Can't make the big pitches anymore out on the field."

Maggie winced; a torn rotator cuff was the kiss of death for a QB.

"Can't play, can't stay," he said by rote. "I couldn't afford to stay on without the scholarship and well…school's never been my thing. You know that."

She nodded.

"And then my dad…well, it's just me and him now…and…" he glanced up sadly. "He's got lung caner."

"Oh…honey, I'm sorry," Maggie said genuinely. He was a jock and a bit of an idiot, but Carter was a sweet kid.

"Yeah. I figure it's better this way, you know? That I can be home with him."

Shit, lung cancer? His old man probably didn't have the best prognosis. And then where would the poor guy be? No family and working for minimum wage at the Sunflower Market the rest of his life? Maybe up at the mill, chipping wood? Neither were bright prospects for a handsome young kid who'd landed on the bad side of luck.

She was still just as discriminating in her tastes, but motherhood had softened Maggie toward kids. Certain kids. Not shithead bitches like the girls who'd hounded Ava, but good kids. Kids who didn't deserve the hand they'd been dealt. This kid in particular had earned a spot on her favored list when he'd helped the guys rush to Ava's rescue. And had even defended her against her classmates. "What are you gonna do?"

He shrugged. "I haven't quite figured that out yet."

She smiled slightly. "How do you feel about motorcycles?"

**-O-**

"_We're all bitches_," Bobby read from the May issue of _Street Smarts _and Tig burst into raucous laughter. "No, no, c'mon, Tigger," he scolded. "Just listen."

"Yeah," Juice shot the Sgt at Arms a dirty look. "I wanted to hear this."

"Sure," Tig said with a chuckle. "Find out just how much of a 'bitch' your bride-to-be is."

"Oh, that's too far, man," Juice shook his head, scowling.

"Kids," Bobby sighed. "Can I just read?"

"I'm listening," Tux offered helpfully.

Tig shrugged. "Let's see what the 'bitch' has to say."

With a dramatic eye roll, Bobby knuckled his glasses further up his nose and returned to the article. "Alright….ah. _Every woman, whether she admits to it or not, has a raving bitch inside of her. Mess with her children, her family, her home…and that bitch comes out. To deny it is foolish. You embrace it, keep it with you. Because in this life, an overwhelming naïveté only prevents you from seeing the threats around you. We all have a bitchy side. Sometimes it escalates simple disagreements to fights, but other times, it saves our lives. It's a hard life out on the asphalt, and no one ever rode it without becoming acquainted with her inner bitch._"

**-O-**

After he'd showered, shaved and dressed, Happy found her in the tiny kitchenette of the apartment. Her back was to him, ass cute and perky in the little short-shorts she'd worn to bed. She moved one bare foot across the linoleum, toes pointed, and hummed to herself as she tended whatever was on the stove. He was so content to just watch her that it took a moment for the shock that she was actually _cooking _something to set in.

"Hey."

"Hey!" she returned brightly, half turning so she could smile a greeting. It didn't matter that he'd seen her about twenty minutes ago when he'd left her drowsy and satisfied in bed; she was always excited to see him. That really never got old. Neither did the limitless access to free pussy. The girl would give it up whenever, however, wherever. She made this Old Lady business painfully easy.

Though, if he were honest with himself, it wasn't just the adult relationship they had, but the one of the past that made him almost delighted to come home to her. Standing in front of him, in her booty shorts and camisole, smiling, all her mahogany hair sliding like silk over her shoulders, he saw not just the pretty young thing he owned…but the dark-haired, pig-tailed little girl too. For as wrong as it should have been, nothing had ever been more right for him.

The infant, the toddler, the adorable child, the awkward pre-teen and the full-blown, should-have-been-on-a-runway woman were all the same person. And he'd loved all of them in some capacity. It had never been about pursuing some nice, normal woman. Never his goal to find that "good girl" who was his opposite; who "completed" him. He didn't need that. Ava was his champion. Her worship, her love, her little smiles and reminders of the delicate, precious things that were worth protecting…that was what made her his. There was no contest. No one, no matter her age, no matter the offerings she brought to the table, could dim the radiant light that was Ava. His daughter, his niece, his lover, his Old Lady. His compliment. Not his better half, but a part of himself. An extension of all that he thought, knew and was. And he loved the fucking shit out of her.

"What's that?" he nodded toward the skillet that now had thin, wispy curls of smoke licking up from whatever it contained.

"Oh, I'm making…shit!" she cursed, pulling the pan off the eye she'd been using. The metal coils flared red and she nearly grazed her arm across them as she tried to get the skillet to safety.

Hap pulled her back by the shoulders, sparing her white, flawless skin from a nasty burn, and took the now freely smoking cookware from her hand. He frowned at the shriveled up brown glob of…whatever it was…before setting the skillet in the sink and dousing it with cold water from the tap.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Ava fumed. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing at the murderous expression on her little face. "Why the _fuck _can't I cook, goddamnit!"

He shrugged. "Don't matter. We got some time. We'll hit Waffle House on our way out."

She raked her hair off her face with her hands, sighing loudly. "I was gonna make you pancakes," she looked downright miserable now. "With chocolate chips, just like Mom does. I had whipped cream and everything!"

"Whipped cream?" he arched a brow, straight-faced. "I think I'd rather eat something better than pancakes with that."

Her eyes narrowed at the insinuation, but then her lips twitched and she finally grinned. "Bet you would."

"No, I was serious. Where is it? Can or the tub kind?"

Ava laughed, but he didn't miss the way her eyes trailed over his body. She sighed. "It'll have to wait for later. We've gotta hit the road."

"Five minutes."

"No." She stepped into him and he felt the light stroke of her hand up his chest. He wished he hadn't dressed; she wouldn't be able to turn him down then. Girl loved his ink too much, had raved at length about the taut ridges of muscle in his chest and stomach. Her eyes got that heavy-lidded, fuck-me look to them. "I can't just have you for five minutes."

And wasn't that the truth. He let her go, his body telling him that was a bad idea, and his eyes tracked the sway of her hips as she went down the hall to the bedroom. However it started, fucking Ava never managed to stay within the parameters of a "quickie". A blow job, a hand job, fingering her…it all ended with sweaty, desperate, pawing animal sex, on the floor if there wasn't any suitable furniture handy.

In his mind, he returned over and over to that first time. The intense loyalty that glittered in her eyes when he'd had her up against the wall. The way her soft, unsuspecting mouth had reacted with such complete submission to that first kiss. Women had wanted him before, had given him that come-hither look, but Ava had _wanted _him, shaking so badly because it wasn't just her tight, untested pussy that craved him, but something deeper, hungrier and almost spiritual inside her. He remembered the quiet shock on her face when he'd raised her hands and placed them on his chest. Her wonder as she learned the planes and grooves of his torso. She had been so tight that it hurt. Her breathy cries pained, but fingers begging as she tried to pull him down to her even closer.

He had taught her a lot about sex. Not having to explain so much as to do, and watch the understanding blossom with the pleasure behind her eyes. She wasn't the most talented he'd ever been with. Not yet anyway. But it was the _way_ it was when he was inside her. No woman's pussy had ever felt so good around him. And no one had ever _needed _him the way she did. He had come, that day in October, with Ava up against the wall, to that crossroads in their relationship. When they leapt, would it outshine what they already had? Would it bridge that final space between them that he didn't even know was there?

Yes. It had. It did.

"Hey, hurry up! They'll run out of jalapenos for my hash browns if we don't get outta here."

**-O-**

"That's sick shit, Mags," Jax said with a snort.

Maggie lowered her battered old copy of _Pet Sematary _and watched her cousin take up the seat across the desk from her. She smirked. "Sicker than Abel's projectile vomit inside Tara's new Yukon?"

"Dude," he groaned, wiping a hand down his chin. "Don't remind me."

She chuckled as she abandoned the book and leaned back in her chair. "Tara actually gagged when she told me the story."

"Well at least she didn't have to clean it up. Goddamn."

There was a double rap on the door and Chibs leaned partway into the office, shades pushed up into his hair. "Mornin', children. We hard at work?"

"The hardest, baby," Maggie said as he came into the cramped little room and took the chair beside Jax. "What're you guys up to today? Lots of Presidential shit?"

"You know, burnin' swastikas into football fields," Jax said with a wink. "Little of this…little of that."

"Oh, speaking of football fields…" Maggie informed them of the pitch she'd made to Carter Michaels.

Jax shrugged. "Well, I can't turn away hangarounds." He glanced over at Chibs. "What do you think, VP?"

"Well, he helped us out with Ava." He shrugged too. "We don't have to Prospect him or anythin'. Might as well see."

"I'm not sure he's got the goods to hang," Jax cautioned.

"Maybe not," she said. "But he's a good kid dealing with some bad shit. I think he deserves the chance."

"Okay."

She smiled, feeling like she'd done her good deed of the day. Now, she was free to drink herself stupid that night without worrying about karma. "Thanks."

The roar of a bike out in the lot drew their attentions and Maggie's smile widened when she recognized Happy with Ava riding double. Through the open blinds, she watched the Nomad back his Dyna into place alongside the others. Ava dismounted with a hand on his shoulder, took off her helmet, shook out her hair and was ready for the sloppy kiss he pressed to her lips before taking off toward the clubhouse. Ava watched him go with the most blissful, satisfied smile.

Maggie felt her chest swell with sympathetic happiness for her daughter. There were times, recently, when she'd wondered at the viability of the relationship their addictions had fostered, but never the reality of it. She had known for quite some time that what those two had was rare and terrifying. And that nothing short of death was going to end it for either of them.

"Hey, guys," Ava greeted as she stepped into the office. She traded kisses with Jax and Chibs.

"Hey, baby," Maggie stood to accept her hug. She tightened her arms around her until Ava squirmed.

"Mom…"

"Nope. I can hug you as hard as I want." Maggie closed her eyes briefly. I was hard sometimes to think that she wasn't a baby anymore.

**October 1995**

"Absolutely not."

Maggie sighed and once again tried to pass her four week old daughter to the Tacoma biker. "Please, Hap? I don't have anyone else to call."

He held up his hands, palms out, and took another step backward. "I came to _check _on you, _not _to babysit for you." He was making a disgusted, snarly face. "Call your mom."

"She's at the hospital with Dad."

"So?" he shrugged. "Not my problem."

"Hap," Maggie was starting to feel close to tears. She had a job interview, an actual opportunity to start making some money for the tiny, precious little life she cradled in her arms. And even if he protested, she knew Hap would guard the pink-wrapped bundle with his life – better than any teenage babysitter. "It's just for a couple of hours," she whined and didn't care. "Please."

His shoulders sagged a bit when he sighed. She knew he was starting to relent. "I don't do kids."

She eyed the tattooed killer up and down – the loose jeans, SOA shirt, cut, rings, boots – at twenty-eight, all lean, rolling muscles and hard looks, he resembled anything but someone who liked children. "You don't have to like kids," she reasoned. "I'm just asking you to sit with her a bit. She's a good baby, Hap, you know that. This is a _club_ baby. Gotta look after us, right?"

He scowled at her. "Don't twist that shit around. Clay never said I'd have to change diapers."

"You won't," she sighed. "Look, I don't know why you're being so goddamn stubborn, but get over it! No one said you had to settle down and have kids. But please, I need someone to watch Ava. What, you afraid someone might get under that thick skin?"

His expression became even darker at the suggestion that he might be scared to "let someone in". With a snarl, he extended his arms. "Gimme the goddamn baby."

Ah, music to a mother's ears. Somehow, she didn't think _snarling _or use of the phrase ", goddamn baby," were on the list of nanny qualifications. "Thank you," she said, placing the still-sleeping baby girl in his arms. "Here…no…support the head. There you go."

He looked like he held a live grenade in his hands, staring down at Ava and her little lacey bonnet and pink onesie with a look of pure horror.

"She won't bite," Maggie assured as she collected her purse. "Hold her close so you don't drop her."

Hap pulled the little bundle in tighter, but didn't become any less nervous. "What if she, like, wakes up?"

"She likes for me to sit in the rocker with her. Just talk to her, sing to her, whatever. She shouldn't be any trouble."

"Yeah, but what if she starts crying?"

"Hap," she placed a hand on his forearm. "You'll do fine."

**November 2000**

"…and then, there was a bunny, only it was blue. And Mama said I couldn't have it until Christmas, so I put it on my list."

"Yeah?"

Maggie smiled as she loaded the dishwasher. Ava had started preschool in September and the teacher had said she was nearly mute. But here at home, when "Uncle Happy" came to visit, no one could shut her up. And the scary biker man who'd been unwilling to hold her would endure hours of her four-year-old, babbling conversation. She could hear them out in the living room now, no doubt watching something very G-rated and nothing at all what Hap would normally choose. The whole thing was pretty goddamn adorable.

"Thanks for dinner, Mags," a voice at the doorway pulled her attention.

Maggie turned and saw Koz trashing his beer bottle. She smiled. "Hey, gotta give back to the club, right?"

"You better believe it," he snorted. She expected him to retreat into the living room again, but he lingered, propping a shoulder against the wall. "You know," he grinned that straight smile that belonged on a Calvin Klein model "; I never thought I'd see Hap like that."

"Like what?" Maggie asked with a laugh, knowing full well what he meant.

"He's really good with her."

"I know. He'd make a better dad than he realizes."

**September 2005**

"Ava!" Maggie called. "I've told you to put your school bag up fifteen times!" When she still got no answer, she hefted the backpack up by one strap from where it rested on the kitchen floor, and then cursed when she realized too late that it was unzipped and all its contents spilled on the linoleum.

"Goddamn," she muttered, bending to collect the notebooks and scattered writing utensils.

One of her spiral bound notebooks had opened, and when Maggie flipped it over, the colorful design on the paper gave her pause. In bright markers, Ava had written her name, and then Happy's name, a big red heart between the two. Little skulls and snakes and various other sinister designs were done with careful, colorful precision.

Maggie was still a long moment, hand starting to tremble. Her ten-year-old daughter was obsessed, not with a scrawny school boy, but the outlaw biker twenty seven years her senior. Her heart ached for the girl and the knowledge that this crush was going to wind up being painful. But it was a little frightening too.

"Mom?"

"Oh…here." Maggie stuffed the notebook into the bag. "Pick your stuff up."

**March 2009**

Maggie straightened her button-up top for the hundredth time as she made her way up the walk of Jax's house. One of the buttons had been…ripped…off, and she prayed the gap in the fabric between her breasts wasn't too noticeable. Likewise prayed that her hair wasn't too mussed, nor her makeup too smudged. _Shit! _Had she really done that? Had missing Chibs really justified what had just occurred on the grimy floor of the T-M office?

The worst part was the aftershock. Though it repulsed her, the phantom feel of his body clung to her skin, sending involuntary, electrical impulses through her that shook her to the core. Like the orgasm had never ended, instead followed her home to remind her what a terrible person she was.

With trembling hands, she found the key in her purse and managed to get the door open. The interior of the little house smelled like Chinese takeout. The TV rumbled just beyond the entryway. _Double shit! _She was supposed to be home two hours ago. Hap would be pissed that she'd left him hanging on guard duty. Especially considering what she'd been doing.

But when she stepped into the living room, all the worry, and some of the anxiety left her. Hap was sprawled the length of the couch, his shoulders against one arm, staring at the TV. Ava was between his legs, her head resting on his stomach. Fast asleep.

Maggie paused a moment, braced a shoulder against the threshold. "She okay?"

He glanced over and nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry I'm late. I didn't mean to put you out like this, I -,"

"I can watch the kid, Maggie," his voice was firm. "I know how to take care of her."

**April 2014**

Tacoma and Oregon had been on a "charity" run that had landed them in Charming. The resulting party was huge, so Maggie was surprised to find Hap alone on a sofa. She pushed through the undulating tide of bodies in the clubhouse and finally landed a seat beside the Nomad. "Hey!" she shouted over the thumping music. "Where's your girl?"

He pointed towards the bar with his beer bottle and she spotted Ava with Koz and Juice, two beers in her hands, obviously on her way back toward Hap.

"I guess I gotta congratulate you, huh?" he asked.

Maggie gave him a questioning look and he tapped at his ring finger with his thumb."Nice rock."

"Thanks," she beamed. Every time someone mentioned the ring, or, more importantly, the reason behind it, she couldn't keep from smiling.

He nodded and tipped back the last of his beer, eyes returning to Ava. She saw a muscle in his jaw flex and figured it was just a little does of healthy jealousy. It reminded her why she'd come over here. "Hey, Hap?"

He spared her a quick, flat glance.

"I wanted to thank you," she said, dropping her voice just a touch.

He raised his brows in question.

"For taking such good care of my baby girl." He nodded, serious. "Really, she was always your baby girl too, wasn't she?"

It would have been easy to miss, but something rippled across his face; just a fast little telltale sign of an emotion he kept in check well beneath the surface. "Feels that way."

"I'm not putting any pressure on you," she said ", but I really would like grandbabies one of these days."

He frowned. "I can't make any promises on that."

"Too soon? Since…the miscarriage?"

He didn't appear shocked that she knew. He shook his head. "No, it's that…having her is kinda like havin' a kid. And then it's not. I'm not ready to try and figure that out yet."

Wow. That hadn't really occurred to her. Sure, in the past, Ava had felt like a child to him – his child – but she had assumed that with the shift in their relationship, some of that would have faded. Maybe it should have repulsed her, but instead, it made her that much more confident in his commitment to her. "She's my everything, Hap. I know I don't ever have to tell you what that means." She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. "Thanks."

Hap nodded. "Thank you."

She held his gaze a moment longer, not having to ask what he meant by that. _Thank you for letting me have her. _Maggie smiled and pushed off the couch, ready to find her own Old Man.

**-O-**

Jax surveyed the crowd with no small amount of satisfaction. He'd well survived his first year as Prez, despite all the awful shit they'd seen. There was still a lot to figure out – the gun business was still an issue at the table – but for the night, everyone seemed to be having a good time and not thinking about the worries of the club; only the family of it.

"Jackie-boy," Chibs announced as he settled beside him at the table.

"Hey, bro," he slugged his VP on the arm. "You a'ight?"

"Aye." The Scotsman was smiling more than Jax had seen in the past few years.

"You gonna slip off later with the little missus?"

"Probably." He chuckled. "Fuck me, brother, I shoulda made this official years ago."

"No kidding," Jax grinned. "I can actually stand to be around Maggie again."

Chibs scoffed loudly. "She ain't been as bad as the little one."

"Ava? Yeah, you've got quite the sweet pair of ladies there."

Chibs sobered a bit. "Seriously, though, it's nice. All of it. They're happy."

Jax scanned the room and found Maggie lost in conversation with Tara, Ava standing with Juice and Koz, her body angled as if at any moment, she'd return to Hap who sat on the sofa. He nodded. "Yeah."

He kept looking, taking in the faces and cuts of all those present. The women. The kids. It was a packed house and every person here had been impacted, and would be, by the decisions he made as President. It was an ungodly amount of responsibility, something he had been unable to fully comprehend until he'd overtaken the old leadership. Speaking of which…

He found Clay in the mass, his stepfather at another table. As though magnetized, their eyes locked for a moment. Then, slowly, Clay lifted his beer in a salute. Jax nodded and returned the gesture.

_Here's to being King._

**-O-**

Ava consolidated the necks of both beers into one hand so she could accept the little nub of a joint Juice passed her.

"I can't believe you called that bitch out in your article!" he said with a laugh that proved where the rest of the blunt had gone.

"I had to," Ava justified. "People like that make Old Ladies look bad."

"Now you're gonna have to tell the story," Koz said, accepting the joint after she took a hit and passed it to him.

"Oh shit," Juice half groaned, half laughed. "That weekend Hap and I redid her truck, this big ol' mannish woman…unisex…_person _comes into the shop."

"Asked whose truck it was," Ava picked up the line. "And then proceeds to tell me how wrong it is that I let myself be 'oppressed' by all these 'pompous men' who want to 'keep me down'."

Juice started snorting he was laughing so hard.

"And I'm sure you were real diplomatic," Koz said with a wink.

"Bitch…bastard…whatever it was told me to ride my own bike. I mean, can you believe that shit? People need to learn what the fuck an OMC is!"

"I thought Ava was gonna go at her!" Juice managed. "Holy shit…it was awesome."

"Why am I never in Charming when exciting shit happens?" Koz complained. "Damn. The next time you feel the need for a Foxy Boxing match, call me."

"Oh, only half of that match woulda been 'Foxy'," Juice shook his head. "Trust me."

Ava didn't miss the sneaky look Kozik shot her way. She widened her eyes. _Don't say it. _Juice's "Foxy" slip wasn't the first comment of the evening that had been taken the wrong way. Suddenly, Ava wanted very badly to return to Happy and his possessive embrace.

"I gotta read this article then," Koz said, glancing away from her.

She sighed inwardly with relief. "I think Bobby had a copy behind the bar."

He nodded.

Across the clubhouse, sticking out like a sore thumb, Ava spotted Carter. He held a beer and glanced around with a mix of awe and fear. He'd never before been inside the inner sanctum of the MC.

Ava couldn't help but feel sympathetic towards him. Lost his scholarship. Would eventually lose his dad to cancer. Though a little surprised that her mother had brought him in as a hangaround, she was glad she had. The odds were slim, but Carter just might last long enough to Prospect. And maybe even get patched. The chances were slim…but at least he was being given that chance, which was more than many could say.

She waved and he waved back, obviously nervous. "Hey, Juice? I think Carter could stand a toke."

He gave her a glassy look and she tilted her head toward the jock. It took him a second to catch on, but then Juice nodded. "Oh. Yeah." He shrugged. "Yeah. I can do that."

"Thanks." She smiled up at him and he kissed her on the cheek as he headed off through the crowd. When he was gone, Ava sighed.

"That shit gonna get complicated?" Koz asked knowingly. His handsome face went Sgt at Arms serious for a moment.

Ava shrugged. "Not on my part. But…I dunno. It's weird." She scrunched up her nose. "And Juice and I have never been weird. I don't like it."

"Yeah, well, this is how things work, sweetheart. And trust me, Hap isn't going anywhere. You can't kill that mean fucker."

She grinned. "Yeah."

With a smile, the Tacoma enforcer squeezed her shoulder. "I'll catch ya later, kid. Better get back to you man before he gets homicidal."

That was a true statement. Hap _did _look homicidal as Ava headed towards the sofa where she'd left him. He had his legs spread, hands on his thighs, tracking her with the hardest, most unrelenting stare. His eyes looked black in the shadows. The lines on his face deeper and more menacing. And beyond that superficial examination, was undisguised jealousy. The cords in his neck and taut, lean arms stood out in relief against his skin. Skin that was a smoky, deep color here in the clubhouse. Jesus Christ…he turned her on.

He reached for one of the beers when she came to stand between his knees, but she set them on the table and leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders. "Take me somewhere," she whispered ", and fuck me."

**-O-**

It shouldn't have, but it felt different when he touched her ink. As Ava braced her hands on either side of the sink basin and thrust her hips forward to meet him, his rough fingers traced the letters of his name on her skin. And the little moan at his intrusion became a strangled cry.

It was quiet up here in Jax's old dorm, in the bathroom, sitting up on the counter. The music pounded below, a dull echo, but here, in their little tiled shelter, their breathing was the loudest sound.

"Oh…Hap," Ava gasped as he rotated his hips. She would never tire of having him inside her. There was a rush that came with knowing it was her body that milked the cum from his; her tits he buried his face between, her pussy he stroked with his tongue. But as amazing as it was when he went down on her, she liked it this way best; him buried to the hilt in her, her body yielding and then taking at his behest.

Her carefully picked out top had been hiked over her breasts, the cups of her satin bra pulled down. She loved the brush of his smooth chest against her nipples. Just as she loved the feeling of their naked hips meeting as he stroked the innermost part of her with his cock. Her fingers tore at the skin over his ribs as he thrust in and out, deep and then shallow. He grunted as he tried to drag her even closer, his hand on her tat.

"Fuck…" he murmured and Ava leaned back further, using the leverage to grind her pelvis into his. "Shit…yeah, sweetheart."

Her eyelids fluttered as the building pleasure threatened to drag her under, but she forced them open, determined to watch his face.

He was glorious; the bunch and strain of his well defined muscles. The hard column of his neck with its veins and tendons standing out. His obsidian eyes on her tits…and then on her face…feeding off what he found in her, becoming darker still. His arms, his chest, those flexing abs, the snarl on his lips as he crushed her close to him, the smell of his skin, his pec under her lips and teeth, his cock in her, hips moving faster, rhythm churning…in all that physical ecstasy, she found the emotional too. Her love for him was so complete, so well-defined on so many levels, that when she screamed and clawed at his back, it wasn't just because she came, but because at that pinnacle, it was impossible to care anymore about any other person.

They stayed connected long after they stilled. Ava felt the rise and fall of his heaving chest push against her forehead, his heartbeat strong and vital under his skin. She ran her hands up and down his ribs, down his spine, over his ass, absorbing the feel of him.

It was hard sometimes to think that she had come this far. She had known love her whole life – his love no less – but every time it felt more powerful. Stronger. She had never loved someone so completely. She loved her mother, her father; her brothers, cousins, uncles and grandmother. Loved her family. And Hap was her family, but he was her lover too. Her father, uncle, lover, Old Mad…her whole universe, and was the only person in existence who could fulfill all those roles at once…and leave her breathless.

Ava nuzzled her face into his chest, sighing. "I don't ever want to move. I just want to stay here forever."

He chuckled, drawing her attention upward as he cupped the side of her face. He was serene now, always intense, but calm. And content. His thumb kicked across her cheek. "Think someone would miss you, baby."

She sighed. "Yeah. Guess Mom might want to see me again."

"Just Mom? Shit. You've got a whole clubhouse full of people crazy about you, kiddo."

_Kiddo. _In her post-coital state, she thought she might cry at the sweet way that word sounded in her ears. She had spent so long thinking that word was degrading that she'd never stopped to think that him loving her as his "kiddo" meant twice what it did to be "baby"…though she'd like both if she could get them.

"I love you," she said, starting to feel choked up. _Damnit! Don't cry!_

Hap kissed her on the forehead and circled both arms around her, keeping her close. "Been a long ride."

"MmmHmm." She tilted her head back, their faces so close he was almost out of focus. She loved it though; could smell and taste him just on the air. "Do you ever regret it? That phone call from Clay?"

He kissed her, messily, with a wandering tongue, taking a turn at her top and bottom lips, making her want to cum all over again. She had heard the story; that call in the dead of night; Clay asking the Tacoma killer to please look out for the Queen's cousin and her unborn child. That one phone call had changed her life. His too, she supposed.

"Nah," he said. His look was firm, but he sounded almost breathless when he broke away from her mouth. "Not for a second."

Ava pulled back a fraction so she could really study him. His expression was true. Through the Irish…all those times with the Irish…the years, the teenage petulance on her part, the violence and bloodshed, Hap wanted to be here right now, in this bathroom, just as badly as she did. What they had…it wasn't a teenage girl's fairy tale love story. It wasn't holding hands under the porch light, dancing in the middle of a rain-soaked parking lot. A crazed flight on a Harley and not a Sunday drive in an old convertible.

But Ava didn't know how it could possibly get any better than it was. She loved him. He loved her. She would have followed him to the ends of the earth. It wasn't perfect. Wasn't flawless.

But, she realized with a smile that he returned; it was pretty goddamn fearless.

**The End**


End file.
